


the cure

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babysitting, Barebacking, Cisco is Bad at Coping and Relationships and Harry is Slightly Better, Dante Is Dead :(, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Team Flash Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: “I guess I don’t really get what you need to fix? Harrison Wells is a hot, rich genius that pays you to make cool stuff with his daughter and is totally into you. If you guys boning is the biggest problem you have, I think this officially qualifies as your best relationship ever.”When Barry puts it like that, everything sounds so simple and not at all as angst ridden as Cisco has been suffering the past few months.Cisco hangs up on him.





	1. Chapter 1

When Cisco arrives at the weekly West family dinner, a banner spelling congratulations is hanging over the dining room table. Barry, Iris, Caitlin, and Wally are donned in party hats. Joe has a bottle of champagne.

“I guess Joe told you I got the job?”

Caitlin is the first to blow her noisemaker before running to pull him into a hug. He feels his face flushing as she presses a happy kiss to his cheek.

“We’re so proud of you!”

Barry bounds to them, one gangly limb wrapping around his shoulder while he rubs Cisco’s hair with his other hand. “Dr. Harrison Wells, man! You’re working with Dr. Harrison Wells!”

“Not working with him, technically. Just his daughter.”

“Who’s a genius in her own right, from what Dad tells us.” Iris beams as she moves in for her hug. Barry gathers her to him as well, holding them both tight. Wally joins in, too, and Cisco grasps his shoulder.

Warmth unfurls in Cisco’s chest, curling up his neck and cheeks. It’s embarrassing to have his friend family geek so far out. He understands they’re excited; no one is more excited than him, and really, it speaks to how pitiful his life is that getting a tutoring job is the most exciting accomplishment he’s made in years.

“She’s only 12, but she can give her old man a run for her money. I bet working with her won’t be too far off from working at MIT,” Joe says. “Now, whose ready for champagne?”

- 

Cisco’s parents don’t react with nearly the same enthusiasm. Neither does his Uncle Tito, who accepts his resignation from the auto shop with little more than a grunt. Guilt gnaws around Cisco’s heart, but the dull ache is a familiar pressure. He’s been breathing around its great fist since the car accident that took his father’s ability to walk and his brother’s life.

Four years have passed since Cisco left MIT to help his parents after the accident. He forces himself not to think of Dante as he dresses for his first day of work. How Dante would fuss at his hair as much as their mother does. What Dante would suggest he wear. 

That if Dante were alive, he might be working at S.T.A.R. Labs instead of in the Wells private home.

Joe is waiting for him outside. They agreed to carpool, but considering Cisco’s clunker has been out of commission for months, it feels more like being driven to Work With Your Pseudo Dad Day. Cisco says goodbye to his mother. She says goodbye back but doesn’t look him in the eye.

When Cisco climbs into the car, there’s coffee.

“You’re an angel,” Cisco groans into his cup. “The world’s most badass angel.”

“I figured you’d need a pick me up and wanted you to make a good impression. This is a big opportunity, Cisco.”

“It’s just a tutoring job,” Cisco reminds Joe, along with himself.

Opportunities have never been exactly big or plentiful for Cisco. He had the opportunity to go to MIT on a generous ride, to get a glimpse of the life he’d always wanted to create for himself. Then he had the opportunity to watch his dreams burst in flames.

Tutoring Jesse Wells isn’t something to turn his nose up at, but he’s not expecting a Cinderella story. He doubts he’ll see Dr. Harrison Wells much or that whatever he ends up creating with an 12-year-old will win him any distinguished prizes. There’s a chance he could build something great, though, a chance to learn and teach and mold. It's more than he's had in a long time.

“It’s whatever you make of it,” Joe says. “Now drink your coffee. Dr. Wells is not exactly a morning person and we can’t have both of your grumpy ass attitudes starting off the day.”

“I’m a freaking ray of sunshine,” Cisco grumbles. He drains his cup.

-

The ride up the Wells winding driveway feels longer than the ride from his home to theirs. Early dawn wraps everything in orange pink, adding a glow to the manicured lawn and hedges. Cisco would be annoyed at the obnoxious wealth and beauty of the estate if he wasn’t so in awe. 

A butler – an actual butler – greets Joe and Cisco when they finally park in front of the house.

“Cisco, this is Henry Hewitt. He’s been with the family for years. Henry, this is Cisco.”

“Mrs. Wells new tutor. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Same.” Cisco takes his offered hand and tries not be blinded by his teeth.

“Dr. Wells and Mrs. Wells are having their coffee in the kitchen. I’ll show you the way.” 

Henry leads them through a yawning entry way into a home that’s much more functional than the pretentious aesthetic had Cisco expecting. Everything is open space and light wood and warm lighting.

“This place is dope."

The morning pours through large bay windows, spilling into a nook filled by a circular table. Papers and pens and various pieces of tech cover the surface. At it sit a slim, dark haired girl and the man who has been Cisco’s hero since he was 15. 

Cisco is momentarily breathless. The man responsible for S.T.A.R. Labs, for half the technology used in the city and six of Cisco’s top ten engineering innovations of the early 2000’s, is sitting in a wife beater and gray pajamas with the most serious case of bedhead Cisco has ever seen.  
  
“Morning, Dr. Wells. Morning, Quick.”

“Good morning,” Jesse says, as brightly as can be expected for 7:00 AM, without looking up from whatever she’s scribbling. 

“Who is he?” Dr. Wells asks, squinting. “Who are you?”

It takes a moment for Cisco to realize Dr. Wells is talking about him. “Um. I’m the tutor. You met me. You interviewed me.”

Dr. Wells blinks.

“You _hired_ me.”

“Dad’s only had one cup of coffee this morning.” Jesse finally looks from her paper. “It isn’t usually until the third one that he’s capable of human interaction.” 

“No, you’re not the one I hired. I distinctly remember hair. More if it.”

“It’s behind his head,” Jesse explains. Jesse fixes Cisco with a look and twirls her finger, motioning Cisco to turn in a little circle. Cisco looks to Joe, who doesn’t make any sort of expression other than tired, then turns. “See?”

“Hmm.”

“So,” Joe says. “Are you ready for school, Quick? Cisco’s going to come with us this morning, learn the drill. He’ll be coming with me to pick you up every day from now on.”

“Because it’s so dangerous in the school pick up line that I need two bodyguards now.” 

“Oh, uh, I’m not another bodyguard. Thank you for thinking that I could be, though. I’m your tutor.”

“Babysitter,” Jesse says flatly.

“And tutor,” Dr. Wells says. His voice is deep and rumbling and does something to the sensitive skin on the back of Cisco’s neck. God. He needs a date. “You need someone who can be around when I can’t that can actually help you with robotics instead of just let you blow stuff up.”

“I did not _let_ her blow up anything,” Joe says. “I honestly had no idea what she was doing.” 

Jesse purses her lips but nods her head. “Okay. But I still want to blow _some_ stuff up.” 

Cisco decides, instantly, that he’s not being paid enough.

-

The job is more than Cisco could have hoped for. It’s not really a tutoring gig; he’s more of Jesse’s Jedi Knight, a mentor to hone her intelligence and creativity with practical applications. She’s bright, eager to learn, and her quick wit makes him laugh as much as it inspires parts of his brain that have been lying dormant. 

He develops a routine. Joe picks him up from home every afternoon, then they pick Jesse up from school. Once home, she does her homework, which usually takes all of 30 minutes, then Cisco checks it, which usually takes all of 15. Joe doesn’t pretend he knows what’s going on. Then Jesse and Cisco head into the workshop Dr. Wells has set up in his own home – from talking with Caitlin, it seems to rival even Mercury Labs – and they work on any project Jesse can imagine.

It doesn’t take long for her to warm to Cisco, sharing what she learned at school to what happened in the lunchroom. Cisco becomes familiar with her friends and enemies and who sat with who at school assemblies.

Dr. Wells takes considerably longer to thaw. His schedule is inconsistent; being the CFO of the largest research and development company in the country will cause that, Cisco guesses. When he is around, he speaks a special language of caustic sarcasm that leaves Cisco’s eyes tired from rolling. Cisco does occasionally get to bask in his brilliance when he looks over what Jesse and Cisco have been working on, but that comes with the risk of Dr. Wells actually working on their project. 

Cisco knows Dr. Wells lost his wife as soon as Jesse was born; complications with child birth. He wonders how much of Dr. Wells current personality is the grief of loss or his own special brand of douchebaggery. 

Because there’s something wrong with Cisco’s brain, he can’t help but find himself morbidly fascinated and attracted to the way Dr. Wells dolls out cruelty and brilliance in equal fists. Watching Dr. Wells work does _something_ that short circuits Cisco’s insides. Cisco has seen pictures of Dr. Wells before, videos of him lecturing or presenting research, so he knew, intellectually, that the man was attractive. Seeing the brilliance of Dr. Wells mind and his blue eyes in person is much more intense than Cisco prepared himself for. 

Cisco has a history of crushes that leave him crushed, and none of his previous love interests have doubled as his boss. He tucks the inappropriate fantasies of Dr. Wells dark voice and corded forearms in his back pocket. On particularly silent, still nights, when his skin itches from being untouched, he fingers them out of the recesses of his mind. 

It doesn’t mean anything, really. He just needs to get out more.

-

Caitlin and Barry take Cisco for celebratory coffee after his first week.

“What’s it like working with Wells?” Barry asks. His face is full of hope. Cisco hates to crush it.

“Well. Jesse is awesome. She’s like a tiny bottle rocket of genius and adorableness. Dr. Wells is kind of a dick.” 

Barry almost spits out his coffee.

“I’ve read he can be… abrupt. He’s a perfectionist, according to his biography,” Caitlin says.

“He’s a sadist,” Cisco corrects. “I heard him yelling at one of his physicists. I’m pretty sure he made her cry.” 

Caitlin pouts. Barry pouts.

“Does he have any good qualities?” Barry asks. 

Cisco considers it. “He’s even more brilliant than you can imagine. And he’s very, very handsome.”

“Oh. No, Cisco. Not again.” Caitlin reaches for his hand.

“No, not _again_ ,” Cisco says, batting her away. He may be notorious for developing ill-conceived crushes, but he resents the pity in her eyes. “I’m just saying. He’s smart and handsome. Those are his good qualities. He’s a good dad, too. Just a gigantic ass.”

“Maybe you can help him,” Barry says. “You can help him with Jesse and bring all sorts of sunshine into his life.”

“Yes! You should start giving him the patented Baby in the Sun smile!”

Cisco furrows his brow. “Which smile is that?”

Both of their faces split into wide, toothy grins. They remind him of a picture he has in his bedroom, where Dante is holding Cisco’s head between his elbow and biting into the lollipop he stole from Cisco’s Halloween pile.

“Maybe all he needs is someone to reach out to him. Be a friend. Friendship is magic,” Barry says.

“Maybe,” Cisco agrees.

Maybe.

-

Cisco decides Caitlin and Barry are right. Dr. Wells is surrounded by employees all day; it’s his job to make sure everyone performs to certain standards, and Cisco imagines it’s difficult to overcome that kind of tension to reach anything close to friendliness. All he needs is someone he can be normal with who isn’t his daughter. 

He can be that person, he thinks. Melting an ice queen exterior was always more of Dante’s wheelhouse, or Barry’s, but Cisco can probably manage.

-

Dr. Wells is yelling at someone who sounds just as bitchy as him when Joe and Cisco bring Jesse home. He’s at the kitchen table, papers spread around him.

Jesse ducks her head and rushes to her room. She’s done the same thing every time they’ve walked in on Dr. Wells laying into one of his employees.

Cisco frowns. He moves to enter the kitchen when Joe puts a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t,” Joe says. Cisco shrugs him off. 

Sunshine. Think sunshine thoughts.

“ – and if you can’t do the job you were hired to do, find me someone who can.” 

Dr. Wells hangs up and drops the phone on the table. He glances at Cisco, sees Jesse isn’t with him, and goes back to work.

“Hey, Dr. Wells.”

“Where’s Jesse?”

“She heard you going off on Captain Needa and ran to her room.”

Surprisingly, Dr. Wells smiles. It’s all teeth and self-satisfaction. Cisco should be more frightened than attracted. Instead of seeing a horror flash of the future, being on the other side of Dr. Wells irritation, though, Cisco thinks of that sharpness buried in his neck. 

“Well. I’m going to go. Tutor.” 

Cisco turns to leave, but stops in his tracks when Dr. Wells says, “If Rathaway is Needa, does that make me Darth Vader?” 

Dr. Wells doesn’t sound upset. When Cisco glances over his shoulder, Dr. Wells doesn’t look upset. He’s still wearing a light but bemused smirk that makes his dimples deep and his lips smooth. 

“You don’t seem nearly as upset as a normal person would about that comparison.”

“I prefer Darth Sidious.”

Cisco gaps at him. “He’s the _bad_ guy. I mean, the baddest bad. Badder than Vader.”

“I’m not paying you to help Jesse with English, right?” 

He is, actually. “Do you need an essay explaining how Palpatine is easily the worst tyrant in the Star Wars verse? Because let me tell you. I will write it.” Cisco is formulating his three point essay, trying to anticipate whatever crazy argument Dr. Wells could possibly throw his way.

Dr. Wells actually chuckles at that. “Go help Jesse. That’s what I’m paying you for." 

-

Cisco keeps trying to extended the magic that is friendship to Dr. Wells, but the more they interact, the more Cisco is convinced Dr. Wells isn’t tortured or lonely – he’s just a dick. 

Cisco bakes chocolate chip cookies, thinking the gesture may loosen Dr. Wells up, but apparently he’s the only person on the planet besides Wally who doesn’t like chocolate chip. Cisco tries brownies and strawberry cheesecake before Dr. Wells tells him to stop running a damn bakery and focus on Jesse.

Cisco tries to talk to him. He suggests a family trip to see the new _Star Wars_ , which initiates an intense argument about the artistic direction the new trilogy is taking and how it cheapens the original. Cisco actually agrees, but on the principals of letting things be fun, he argues. It ends with him stomping out of the kitchen, frustrated.

He overhears Dr. Wells yelling at his S.T.A.R. Lab employees and delivery people who arrive late and, on one occasion, a very unlucky solicitor who manages to call his personal cell phone. Cisco can't really blame Dr. Well's for that one, but still.

Dr. Wells seems to figure out Cisco’s game and enjoys antagonizing him. There’s a twinkle that is entirely psychopathic when Dr. Wells has the opportunity to salt the wound.

Cisco decides it’s a lost cause when he comes down the stairs from Jesse’s room to retrieve much needed snacks and sees Dr. Wells on his laptop, snapping at some poor guy over Skype.

After the video berating is done, Cisco can’t help himself. “Have you ever heard of something called positive reinforcement? Or a company culture that promotes fun and creativity?”

“You think S.T.A.R. Labs should be like Google? If those hippies manage to do anything useful for society, let me know. Until then, I think our company culture is just fine.”

“Man. You just _like_ being a dick, don’t you?” 

Cisco says it without thinking. Their work environment and relationship has been outstandingly casual, and while they argued and snapped and pushed each other, Cisco had never actually called Dr. Wells out on being a straight up ass. 

“Ramon. I run a multi-billion, that’s billion with a b, dollar company. I’m in charge of not only imagining and creating new innovations, but in ensuring they’re released into the world as efficiently and safely as possible. I have hundreds of employees under me and I don’t have the time or the patience to worry about each of their individual egos if I want to make sure I can continue to employ them.” 

Feeling properly chastised, Cisco holds up his hands. “Sorry. I don’t get your pressure. I’d probably be cranky too if I had all those lives depending on me.” 

Dr. Wells eyes him evenly. “I’m the smartest person in the room when Jesse’s not around. I’m successful. There’s no reason for me to waste my time being anything that I’m not.”

“Okay, House M.D. I got it.”

Cisco grabs a bag of pretzels and two sodas from the fridge. When he walks back through the living room, Dr. Wells is typing furiously. Without looking up, he says, “You’re not so different, Ramon.” 

Cisco pauses. “Well. I think I’m more the Jane to your Daria, so I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

“I _mean_. You could be more polite and flattering, try to butter me up, but instead you’re stubborn and mouthy.”

“I’m not mouthy,” Cisco frowns. “I’m sassy. And spirited.”

Dr. Wells rolls his eyes, but there is the ghost of a smile on his lips. Cisco is fascinated by the soft dip of his dimples. “Don’t let Jesse have more than two of those drinks.”

Cisco nods, but lets her have three.

-

A month and a half into the job, Jesse’s crazy rich kid private school has a teaching day. She and Cisco spend most of it building a two-foot robot that can do cartwheels without any of the jerking tech clumsiness that normally comes with play bots. Joe is watching some game with Hewitt in the family room. 

Autumn is crisp but still warm enough for them to test GymBot – Cisco’s name – outside. The Wells backyard is a sprawling void of perfectly manicured grass. Eventually, the testing cycle devolves into a Jesse vs. Cisco vs. robot cartwheel contest. Whoever gets the dizziest has to make the next round of grilled cheese sandwiches. 

Dr. Wells comes home, early, as Cisco is taking his turn. Cisco doesn’t notice him until after he stands and announces, “Okay. I’m gonna throw up.” 

Cisco sways, t-shirt stuck to the slight sheen of sweat he worked up. He winces and grips his head in his hands until the world stops spinning. When life comes back into focus, Dr. Wells is standing next to his daughter, amused. His eyes drop to the exposed skin of Cisco’s stomach. Self-conscious, Cisco pulls his shirt down. 

“Look what we made daddy,” Jesse says, breathless and light. “Guess how many cartwheels Cisco did?” 

“How many cartwheels did you do, Jesse Quick?”

“Twelve before I got dizzy. Cisco made me stop.”

 “Good,” Dr. Wells says, watching Cisco when he says it. “How many cartwheels did Ramon do?”

“Seventeen!”

Dr. Wells shrugs. “Mildly impressive. The robot?”

“GymBot.” Dr. Wells raises an eyebrow. Cisco circles his fingers around each other. “You know, ‘cause gymnastics.”

“It did twenty before the batteries ran out. But it still looked kind of goofy,” Jesse says.

“I think I figured that out, actually. What do you say we take a lemonade break before we modify it?”

Jesse gives him a thumbs up and grabs her father’s hand. “Help me with the lemonade?”

“In a second, sweetie. Why don’t you see if Hewitt will make the pink kind you like so much?”

With a smile, Jesse heads inside. Dr. Wells surveys Cisco before turning to the robot.

“You and Jesse built this?” 

“It was Jesse’s vision. I just helped her vision become a reality.” Cisco beams. “That’s what engineering is, after all.”

Dr. Wells shakes his head. “You are – ” He smiles, tight, like his amusement pains him but he can’t conquer it. It’s a different, more human shade of handsome than Cisco has seen him wear. “It really is one of life’s greatest tragedies when brilliance isn’t allowed to blossom. If you’d finished at MIT, I can’t imagine where you’d be now.” 

“I think all those cartwheels scrambled my brain, because I could’ve sworn you just gave me a compliment.”

“I made an objective observation. What material did you use for this?” He knocks on the chest. 

“Magnesium alloy, but we covered it in plastic resin to make it more lightweight.”

Cisco stands awkwardly as Dr. Wells evaluates his work. The evaluation isn’t new, but being alone with Dr. Wells is. Usually Jesse is bopping around, asking questions or explaining their idea, or Joe is sipping coffee and talking while they wait for Jesse. He isn’t sure if he should speak or what he should do with his hands. 

While Dr. Wells walks around GymBot, Cisco takes in the tousle of his hair and the way his shirt stretches over his shoulder blades. Immediately he wonders what’s wrong with the self-preservation part of his brain if it’s allowing him to consider the tightness of Dr. Wells clothes. 

“How are you going to fix it?” Dr. Wells voice – why is it so _deep_? – startles Cisco from his thoughts.

He swallows hard. “Um. What?”

“The, ah, goofiness, I believe you called it. How are you going to fix it?”

Thankful Dr. Wells doesn’t somehow have the capability to read Cisco’s increasingly embarrassing thoughts, Cisco rubs at his neck and launches into a babbling explanation. Instead of shooting down every single thing he says, Dr. Wells actually nods and hmm’s and generally agrees. Cisco feels his shoulders loosen and his chest get light at the approval.

When Jesse and Hewitt return with lemonade, Dr. Wells helps them perfect GymBot until it’s turning smooth all over their lawn.

-

In both a fortunate and unfortunate turn of events, Dr. Wells work schedule lessens, giving him more time at home. 

It’s fortunate because one of Cisco’s greatest fantasies, one he thought had burned to ashes and been buried years ago, was to work with Dr. Harrison Wells. Although it’s not on a project that will shape the future or change the world, it’s still amazing. When he’s not avoiding the markers Dr. Well chucks at his head or bristling from Dr. Well’s abrasive advice, he’s learning things the greatest engineering program in the country couldn’t have taught him. 

It’s unfortunate because Cisco becomes intimately familiar with the bob of Dr. Well’s throat, the flex of his forearms, the sliver of skin revealed when Dr. Wells stretches his hands behind his head. Dr. Wells voice burns in the tunnels of his ears. Cisco hears that rumble when he wakes up in the morning and washes his hair at night. 

-

It’s a Friday when Cisco realizes two things. 

One: it’s been far, far too long since he’s been on a date.

Two: he absolutely and positively has the worst taste in crushes. 

He’s with Jesse and Dr. Wells in the at home lab. Dr. Wells rolls his long sleeves up to his elbows. Cisco is distracted by the frankly obscene roll of fabric and misses it when Jesse says his name. She knocks Cisco with her elbow.

“I said, will it work if I use tungsten instead?”

“Uh. Yeah. Yep.” Cisco blinks. When Dr. Wells looks to him from the motor he’s working on, Cisco quickly looks away. “What?” 

“ _Tungsten_.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s brilliant. It won’t melt when this baby generates all that heat.” They high five, slide their palms, and bump fists. Cisco can see Dr. Wells eye roll in the corner of his vision.

“Genius as always, Jesse Quick.”

“Thanks daddy.”

Jesse hums and goes to collect material. Dr. Wells continues working on the motor.

“Ramon? You wanna hand me that screwdriver?” 

“Which one?” Cisco asks, trying to ignore the fact that Dr. Wells has his hands all over something Cisco built.

“The _Phillips_. How do you not know which tools to use? Have you ever worked with tools before?”

“I’m working with one now.”

Jesse giggles at his side. Dr. Wells eyes are narrow and dark when Cisco hands him the screwdriver. He feels heat creep up his neck.

“Language, Ramon,” Dr. Wells says sharply.

“Why don’t you call Cisco Cisco?” Jesse asks innocently. She lays the tungsten on the table. Cisco picks up the material, feels the weight in his hands, considers the best way to apply it.

“Because Ramon is one of my employees, and it’s important to maintain the professionalism of our relationship.” Dr. Wells pauses for a moment. He looks at Cisco and Cisco thinks there is something significant in that gaze, but he can’t place it. “Sometimes people can get lines crossed.”

“It’s rude,” Jesse says.

“It’s fine,” Cisco assures her quickly. “Let’s get this stuff ready to mold, okay?”

“Can we eat first? I’m starving.” She leans her elbows over the stainless steel table, staring at her father expectantly. “What’s for dinner?”

“Well, since Hewitt has the night off, I was thinking pizza.”

“Cool.” Jesse straightens and pulls her phone from her school jacket pocket. Cisco thinks about what his own mother would say if she saw a 12-year-old with a cell phone. “Is Cisco staying for dinner?" 

“If he wants.”

Cisco has stayed a few times before, with Joe, when Dr. Wells was working late. He’s never eaten with Dr. Wells. There’s a tentative hesitation that weighs his tongue down. He considers Dr. Wells statement about professionalism and lines. 

“Ramon?” Dr. Wells says. Jesse makes a tutting sound and Dr. Wells rolls his eyes. “Cisco. Do you want to?”

Cisco knows he’s referring to dinner, but then his tongue darts out, resting between his too pink lips as he puts the final screw in the motor, and Cisco’s brain goes stupid.

“Cisco?” 

“I gotta go,” Cisco says in a rush. “We have family coming for dinner and I promised my mom I’d be there.”

Jesse pouts for a second before the restaurant picks up. She launches into her order. Cisco turns his attention to the tungsten. He thinks he can feel Dr. Wells watching him, but when he peers through his lashes, Dr. Wells is focused on the metal in his hands.

-

A few days later, Cisco meets Caitlin at Jitters for coffee.

“I have lust in my heart for Harry,” he tells her over iced vanilla lattes.

Her eyes go cartoon wide and adorable. “Dr. Harrison Wells?” Cisco nods with a sigh. “You’re calling him Harry now?”

“Jesse decided we should start using first names and that is not the point. I’m having a crisis, here.”

“So, friendship is magic?” Caitlin smiles.

Cisco shakes his head. “Uh, no. He’s still a giant bag of dicks.” 

“Oh. Probably you shouldn’t be into him, then?”

“I haven’t caught feelings. He is the worst. But.” 

“But?”

“He’s so smart, Cait.” Cisco puts his chin on his fist and sighs, dreamy as a middle school girl, but he can’t help it. “His brain is like lightening. Also his eyes – have you ever seen a picture of his eyes?”

“Yes. They are very blue.”

“Like a Siberian husky. And he has this thing with his forearms. And I’m weak. I’m so, so weak.” 

He lays his head on his forearms. She pats his head.

“You’re not weak,” she says softly. “You’re just lonely and desperate.”

“Thanks.”

Her fingers turn softer and she runs them through his hair. His mother used to do this when he couldn’t sleep. The chills that go down his spine and the nostalgia that rises in his chest calm him. He can’t remember the last time his mother did this. The last time she touched him. 

“I just meant it’s been a while since you last dated. And your last relationship was. Well.” 

“With a girl who turned out to be part of a criminal robbery ring,” Cisco says, finally rising to rest his chin in his hands. “I sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?” 

Caitlin smiles at him, cupcake warm and sweet. “Dr. Wells is smart, and rich, and handsome.”

“And his  _forearms_.”

“He also has forearms. Being attracted to him is normal, Cisco. Do you think it’s mutual?” 

“Not in any sort of universe,” Cisco laughs. “But even if he was, he’s my boss. That’s a line I’m not crossing. This job is too good. I need it too much.”

That sufficiently dampens the mood. Cisco doesn’t talk about it a lot; he doesn’t say anything when someone pays for his coffee or movie ticket or happens to need pants when he needs new pants and offers to put his clothes on their card. But Cisco has never had a steady cash flow and even that was stunted by taking care of his family. 

Working for Wells is a blessing. Cisco isn’t going to do anything so stupid as lust after his douchebag boss and risk it. 

“Then maybe it’s time to get back on the horse, as they say. What about that teacher, the one Joe says always smiles at you?”

“Mrs. Saunders.” Cisco thinks about her dazzling smile and the sparkle of her eyes. “Kendra. She seems sweet.” 

“Joe thinks she’s into you. Why don’t you ask her for coffee or something?”

“She’s Jesse’s teacher. You don’t think it’d be inappropriate?”

“It would probably be more appropriate than lusting after Harrison Wells.”

Cisco bites his straw, considering. “True. And it would make my mom happy. I mean, if Kendra says yes. My mom thinks all I do is work and waste my time with my practically jobless, bad influence friends.”

“Have I ever told you I find it weirdly delightful your mom thinks I’m a bad influence?”

“You are though,” Cisco assures her, just to watch her laugh. “The baddest.”

-

The best way to overcome the inappropriate crush that is quickly developing is to transfer all of those frustrating, unsatisfying feelings to someone who is actually available.

It's a Wednesday when Cisco decides to make his move. He hops out of the parent pick up line and asks Kendra if she'd like him to show her around Central City. After a few awkward but sweet smiles, she says yes.

Harry is at the house when they all arrive. They find him in the kitchen, hunched over the breakfast table. Cisco does not check out his ass.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, kid.” Joe clasps him on the shoulder.

“I told you I had game. You just hadn’t seen it in action.”

“Hi dad. You’ll never believe what Cisco just did.”

A scratch crawls down Cisco’s throat and he swallows around it. There’s no reason to be nervous here.

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Harry says. He tosses a look over his shoulder in Cisco’s direction. Cisco, still unsure of how to respond to Harry’s direct attention, beams. Harry quickly drops his gaze back to his project. “How was your day?”

“Good. They gave us schedules for next trimester. Cisco and I are going to go over them to pick out my classes. Now guess what he did.”

“He finally solved Einstein’s riddle?”

“Hey. I did that when I was 17.”

“I did it when I was 10.”

Cisco knew that, actually. He read about it in Harry’s biography. He sticks his tongue out at Harry anyway.

“He asked Mrs. Saunders out!”

The pen Harry is using to scratch over his papers drops. His body tenses and he rises, slowly, from his hunched position. It suddenly occurs to Cisco how tall he really is.

Harry turns until he’s facing both Joe and Cisco, then crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Cisco has never seen this particular storm brewing before, but he’s 99% certain the particular degree of Harry’s frown means he’s pissed.

“You did what?”

“It’s just for coffee,” Cisco clarifies. “Just two single people, meeting to drink coffee and talk about books.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate.”

“Harrison,” Joe begins, but Harry holds up his hand.

“She’s Jesse’s teacher.”

“I don’t mind,” Jesse says, putting her hand on Harry’s elbow. Cisco’s seen her do it before, watched it calm and slow Harry’s ire. “It was kind of cute, really. Cisco was so awkward – ”

“I was velvety smooth!"

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry says tightly. 

Cisco blinks, unsure if he heard Harry correctly. “I’m sorry?”

“Your job is to focus on Jesse and help her skills grow. Being involved with her teacher is a conflict of interest.” 

“Cisco wasn’t asking for your permission,” Joe says.

Harry glares. Cisco takes a step forward, trying to shield Joe from the heat of Harry’s gaze.

“I got this,” he assures Joe. “Can we talk, privately, for a sec?” 

A beat passes. Harry seems to consider Cisco, his size and stance and the bob of his Adam’s apple. “We don’t have anything to discuss. Like Joe said, you don’t need my permission.”

He says it simply, and turns back to his work. 

-

Cisco cancels the date. It was just coffee; there was no guarantee it would lead to anything. Harry’s disappointment in Cisco’s unprofessionalism nags at him more than missing his chance with Kendra. 

That probably means something. Cisco doesn’t examine it.

-

The following weekend, Cisco and his parents are at his third cousin’s baby shower. They throw it at Echo Park since it’s still nice enough outside and there are plenty of grills and playground equipment for the kids. He developed an algorithm to accurately deduce the sex of the baby, but his mother said that wasn’t an appropriate gift, so he places the baby health kit Caitlin and Iris helped him put together on the gift table.

Dante would’ve written a song for the baby. Something warm that would’ve brought the family together, would’ve traveled with the child through their whole life.

He’s only the subject of a few glares and whispers; mostly he’s met with nods, a few smiles, a few ‘how are you, Francisco’s’, which isn’t any worse than before he left his uncle’s business. 

Cisco spends most of the afternoon on the swing set. When he was young, Dante pushed him on these swings, taking him higher and higher until he would squeal and beg to get off. He was always afraid to go too high.

Not for the first time, he looks at his family and thinks it should be his brother celebrating with them. 

-

It’s the end of September when things start to change. Cisco’s mild crush has developed into a medium heat attraction. Harry’s ice exterior has melted by at least one full sheet, revealing enough of his personality to prove Cisco's theory that he just genuinely enjoys being an asshole.

Cisco spends more time with him and Jesse than anyone else. It’s easy and challenging and fun, even when Harry is being annoying – somehow, especially when Harry is being annoying. Occasionally – _often_ – he wants to poke Harry’s dimples. He wants to learn the taste of Harry’s pulse point and if Harry is as bossy in bed as he is in the lab.

Mostly, he just wants Harry’s attention. Harry watching him, looking at his work, talking to him, sitting near him. It’s addicting to have the brilliance of Harry’s sun directed at him. Harry gives him exactly what he wants, and it’s enough.

Cisco doesn’t know if he’s exactly satisfied, but he’s content.

-

Jesse is on the phone with her father while Cisco double checks her work at the table in the kitchen. Joe has already left for the day to attend an awards banquet for Wally; Cisco wishes he could be there with the rest of the family, but with Harry engrossed in his new project and Henry off for the week, Jesse’s care is on Cisco’s shoulders. Joe offered to come back and pick him up, but he can take an Uber home.

When Jesse hangs up and returns to the table, all of the excitement of the school day has faded. 

“Everything okay, Quick?”

Jesse shrugs. “Dad’s not going to be able to come home for dinner.”

“Oh.” Cisco matches her frown.

“He said you would stay with me until he got home.”

Annoyance twitches in Cisco’s jaw, because that’s news to him. He checks his phone quickly and there are no messages or missed calls.

“Are you not staying, Cisco?”

Scrambling to cover his annoyance, Cisco pats her head. “Of course I am, Quick. What do you want to do for dinner? Order pizza?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can we cook something? I like homemade cooking better than fast food, but dad… He’s been working a lot more lately, so he’s been too tired.”

Cisco’s irritation immediately softens under the pout. Jesse has him wrapped around her finger.

The fridge is fully stocked. They stand in front of the open door for a full five minutes.

“Sometimes I think if I look into it long enough, a full meal will just appear,” Jesse says.

“That should be our next project. Willy Wonka style. But until then... Do you have noodles? We could make chicken Alfredo. Looks like we got everything for the sauce.”

“You can make that?”

“I’m a man of many talents.” Jesse smiles and it loosens the frustration in Cisco’s chest. “Look, I know it sucks. Your dad’s working all the time and you gotta hang out with me.”

“You’re not so bad,” Jesse shrugs. She’s still smiling. “Actually, things have been better than they’ve been in a long time. He likes you.”

The words startle him so much he drops the cream cheese.

“Cisco, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just call me butterfingers over here.” Cisco picks it up.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cisco assures her. “You just surprised me. Not that I think your dad doesn’t like me. It’s just.” Cisco considers his next words. “Like isn’t really the word I’d use to describe Harry’s feelings for me.”

“He does. I can tell. He’s happier when you’re around. It’s more fun. You’re the first friend he’s had that I can remember, besides Joe.”

Cisco doesn’t know if Harry would really consider them friends, but Jesse knows him better than anyone. And it’s nice, imagining himself as one of Harry’s few friends. He wonders how Harry would feel about a friends with benefits situation, then reminds himself Harry is also his boss. Co-workers with benefits. 

Jesse keeps talking, asking questions, and Cisco shifts his focus from the warmth in his belly. Harry is giving him enough benefits.

-

Harry doesn’t arrive home until after eleven o’clock.

Cisco waits up for him in the family room – not the salon, or formal sitting room, or the study. It’s his favorite room in the house. Fluffy cream couches and a big screen TV and bookcases overflowing with novels and DVD’s. The walls are a warm burgundy that fits cozy with the hard wood flooring.

By the time Harry comes home, Cisco has fallen asleep. He’s startled awake by Harry unceremoniously dropping a briefcase on his legs.

“Ah – _shit_.” Cisco somehow trips _lying down_ , twisting in the afghan Jesse must have sneaked down to cover him with, and ends up ass on the heated wood floor, head spinning. “What the hell, man?”

“Language,” is all Harry says.

“What the _heck_ , sir?”

Harry snaps and lights illuminate the room. Cisco cringes.

“What are you doing here, Ramon?”

Seething with the irritation of exactly ten thousand suns, Cisco untangles himself from the afghan. “I’m here because you weren’t. I stayed until it was time to tuck Jesse in and when you still weren’t back I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

“I mean, why are you on my couch. If you were planning to spend the night, you should have taken a guest room.”

“I wasn’t _planning_ on spending the night,” Cisco says as he stands. He tries to rub the sleep from his eyes and re-orient himself to reality. “I was going to leave as soon as you got home but then I must’ve fallen asleep… Oh Holy Hannah, what time is it?”

Cisco’s bleary eyes find the grandfather clock in the corner. _Shit._  

“ _Shit_. My mom’s gonna kill me.” Cisco scrambles to grab his crumbling bag at the foot of the couch. “I told her I’d be late but not nearly midnight late. She’s probably worried to death and she’s going to _kill_ me.”

Harry kicks off his shoes before sliding off his jacket. He drops everything on the floor, much to Cisco’s annoyance. “Call her now.”

Cisco glares. “And wake her up? I don’t think so.”

“Is she worried to death or taking a nap?”

“She’s probably dreaming that I died and that she’s going to kill me for dying.”

Harry laughs, genuine but tired. The sleep haze that still hangs over Cisco’s head clouds his vision and his brain. Cisco stares openly at the crow’s feet that scrunch as Harry smiles, the purple that’s pressed softly under his eyes.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Nothing. You just look tired.”

“Yeah, well. It’s past my bedtime.” Harry is still smiling. Cisco’s brain, sleepy and stupid, thinks Harry has actually gotten better looking since the last time they saw each other. He really shouldn’t have canceled that date with Kendra. “It looks like it’s past yours too. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Cisco rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me call an Uber.”

“A what?”

Cisco doesn’t think he’s ever seen Harry look confused before. It’s almost cute, if frigid genius billionaire’s twice his age can be described as cute.

“Just a car. How do you not know about Uber, by the way? You should keep up with the all the hip new trends. You’re going to have to buzz them in through the gates though. Unless you feel like giving me a ride.”

Harry’s jaw twitches. The movement is minute but Cisco doesn’t miss it.

“Or not."

“Just stay,” Harry says. He works at the knot around his tie and Cisco just watches him, dumb, for several moments.

“Here.” He reaches for the tie, but Harry bats at his hands. Cisco rolls his eyes. “Just let me, okay?”

“Fine.” Harry sits still as a child expecting a shot.

Cisco’s fingers are nimble and good at this. For all of Dante’s formal dress recitals, he never got the hang of formal clothing. From what Cisco’s seen, Harry doesn’t wear a lot of ties, sticking to button downs and trousers when he doesn’t have meetings. He’s had a lot of meetings lately.

The only problem is that this close, Cisco is nearly overwhelmed by the scent of Harry’s cologne. It’s sharp and earthy and has Cisco getting much farther up into Harry’s space than is strictly necessary. He hears Harry take a deep breath. Finally he gives a sharp tug and the tie falls undone.

“You’re welcome,” he grumbles. “Now I’m going home.”

“Cisco."

Cisco ignores him and picks up his bag. When he straightens and spins around, Harry is hovering in his personal orbit. His heart stutters on a beat.

“Christ, how did you – gonna get you a freaking bell or something.”

“It’s late. You’re tired. Just stay.”

“Thanks for the offer. Not that your couch isn’t more comfortable and probably more expensive than my bed, but I’ll pass.”

He tries to sidestep the tense line of Harry’s body, but Harry matches his movement. With a frustrated noise, he tries again. Again. Then again, until, “If you want to dance, can we at least put on some Solange?”

“Just take a guest room. You’re coming right back here tomorrow.”

It sounds dangerously logical. “I still need to shower. And brush my teeth. And change my clothes. And my mom is seriously going to - ”

“Kill you, yes. All the more reason for you not to go home. There’s a shower and toiletries in the guest bathroom. As for a change of clothes.” Harry drags his gaze up Cisco’s body. Cisco’s exhausted brain misconstrues the look of irritation for something hungrier and his stomach flips. “You can wear something of mine.”

“That won’t work,” Cisco argues. “You’re too big.”

Again the jaw twitch. Cisco swallows, embarrassed as his mind strays further into a warm but unwelcome place.

“I mean. You’re bigger than me. I’ll look like a child.”

“And your Robots Vs Ninja shirt is supposed to, what, highlight your maturity?”

Before Cisco can retort, Harry sways closer, looming larger and much more man than Cisco has ever fully realized. His body seems tight with potential energy, as if he’s keeping the movements he wants to make locked tight and static. Head tipping forward, he takes another deep breath. Almost like he’s smelling Cisco’s hair. But Cisco knows that’s the sleep fog, dreaming up interest that isn’t there.

“Stay,” Harry says one more time, simple but firm.

There’s no room to argue, so Cisco doesn’t.  

-

The next morning, Cisco wakes up more rested than he has in years. He stretches cat like with a deep yawn. His muscles are loose, his head is clear, and his brain feels super charged, electric.

It takes him several long moments to realize he’s waking up in a bed that’s not his own.

Panic takes hold but fades a moment later. He remembers the night before. Cooking with Jesse, singing her to sleep, tucking her in. Falling asleep. Harry waking him up, leading him to this room. Toeing off his shoes and socks and crawling into bed before Harry would leave, as if the man felt he needed to tuck Cisco in.

Cisco’s cheeks are warm as he swings his feet to the floor. The only discomfort he feels is around his belly. He should’ve taken off his pants. But being in the Wells home, only a few doors down from Harry’s room, and not having pants on had seemed, at the time, a bad idea.

It’s a little hysterical, given how many times he’s imagined the scenario of waking up in this house, that he’s waking up clothed and alone in a bed that isn’t Harry’s.

Shower, he thinks, derailing any dangerous morning thoughts. Brushing his teeth and taking a shower and getting to _work_ , which does not involve any thoughts about his boss’s height or smile or scent.

There’s an en suite restroom, larger than Cisco’s bedroom, and as promised, it’s stocked with towels, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. A plain black comb, along with soap, shampoo, and conditioner are in the cabinet.

It’s like the nicest hotel Cisco has never been able to afford. The shower pressure is heaven. Cisco groans into the hot water. He wants to take his time, enjoy the pressure that beats on his shoulders, bask in the scent of whatever high priced hair products he’s using.

But he doesn’t want to get used to this.

Cisco steps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist before rubbing another through his hair. It would be too perfect if there was a hair dryer. There isn’t.

Shrugging, Cisco decides if Dr. Wells wants to complain about damp hair being unprofessional, he can learn to call if he’s going to be late.

When Cisco walks back into the bedroom, he realizes he doesn’t have a change of clothes. It wouldn’t be a problem if Cisco hadn’t already gotten his clothes damp after dropping them on the floor near the shower. 

“No no no,” Cisco says to himself as he rushes to the dresser. It’s a long shot, but maybe.

And the drawers are empty.

“Well fuck me.”

-

Cisco rushes to Harry’s room. It’s right across from Jesse’s. The door looms large and crackling. He swallows, feeling much too Belle in the forbidden wing of the Beast’s castle for his liking, but still raises his fist to knock.

Before he can, Harry opens the door.

“Ramon?” Harry blinks. He’s not wearing his glasses and his eyes are half lidded with sleep. His hair is impossibly messy. It looks soft and Cisco has the insane urge to reach out.

“Uh. Good morning. Do you have clothes?”

The only response Harry gives is to fixate on Cisco’s hair, wet and plastered to his collar bone. He can feel water drip down his chest. Harry follows the movement with his gaze, leaving a blazing, brazen trail on Cisco’s skin. It’s just sleep, Cisco tells himself when his body sways, suddenly desperate for Harry to suck the water from his skin.

“Harry. _Dr. Wells_.” Cisco looks over his shoulder. There is no light under Jesse’s door. More than likely, she’s already downstairs, but Cisco wants to keep this incident as trauma free as possible. “You said I could borrow some clothes. Mine are wet and unless I’m really behind on fashion, walking around in just a towel is not the in look for fall.”

Cisco is this close to pushing his way into Harry’s room and commandeering clothes himself when he hairs footsteps ascending the stairs. He panics.

“Harry, you gotta let me – ”

“Cisco?”

Cisco winces at the sound of Joe’s voice. “Morning Joe.”

Several tense, silent beats pass.

“There better be a damn good explanation for this,” Joe says slowly. “Or I’m getting my taser.”

“My clothes are wet.” Mentally, Cisco slaps himself. “I don’t have a chance because I wasn’t planning on spending the night with Harry – not that I spent the night _with_ Harry. I fell asleep on the couch because Dr. Inconsiderate didn’t tell me he’d be late, so he let me stay in a guest room, and I took a shower but I don’t have any clothes so I’m trying to borrow some. But I think Harry might be dead.”

“Ramon,” Harry repeats. Sleep has roughened his voice and it’s moving with too much weight over Cisco’s spine. Harry licks his lips. “You need. Clothes.”

“Yes,” Cisco agrees hurriedly. “Yes I do. Can I please have some of yours?”

“Okay. You.” Joe snaps to get Harry’s attention. “Downstairs for breakfast with your daughter. Cisco, you. Pants.”

Cisco and Harry nearly smack face first as they try to follow Joe’s directions. Harry’s hands settle on Cisco’s arms while Cisco’s flutter on his chest. They’re caught in each other’s orbits for one painfully slow moment, then Joe snaps again, breaking their stillness.

-

A few days later, Cisco is drinking too many shots with Barry and Caitlin. Iris joins them just before he and Barry are supposed to duet.

“So,” Iris says as she takes her seat. She’s watching Cisco with too bright eyes. “My dad said you had a sleepover with Dr. Wells.”

Caitlin nearly chokes on her kamikaze. Barry turns wide mouthed to him. “Say _what_?”

“I did not have a sleep over with Harry.”

“Dad said he dropped you off, then you told him you didn’t need a ride home, then he saw you there the next morning. In a towel. And nothing else.” Iris’ smile is dazzlingly evil.

“You slut,” Barry says brightly.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“You did break your date with Kendra for him,” Caitlin says.

“ _Because_ of him. Difference.”

“The only problem was Kendra was his daughter’s teacher, right?” Iris asks. Cisco nods into his beer. He feels like diving inside. “So you need to let us set you up with someone whose _not_ his daughter’s teacher.”

“You did say you wanted to get back on the horse,” Caitlin says.

“So you’re looking for a tall guy?” Barry asks.

Cisco puts his face in his hands. “I’m not looking for any guy. Or girl. Or anyone, right now. Okay?”

“But there’s a new cop on the force, just transferred – ”

“Iris.” She stops speaking when he says her name. “I know you all just want to help, but seriously. It wasn’t right to try to use someone else to distract myself from Harry. And I don’t need to. I think it’s just the shock of actually working with him, y’know? I just need to chill out. Be normal sauce around him.”

“Well that sounds like a great plan,” Iris says.

Cisco knows she’s being sarcastic, but he raises his beer to her anyway.

-

The only flaw in Cisco’s new plan to just _not_ be idiotically attracted to Dr. Wells is that he’s an idiot.

Despite Cisco’s best laid plans, he starts spending the night at the Wells once or twice a week, whenever Harry works late. His mother doesn’t like it, thinks Harry is taking advantage of him, thinks he’s abandoning his family to play with fancy little inventions.

Cisco doesn’t tell her it’s less stressful with Harry and Jesse, that he feels more like family when Jesse tells him about her day and Harry matches him reference for reference.

He helps Jesse with her homework and teaches her everything he knows about engineering. At some point, he takes over dinner duties from Hewitt and teaches Jesse everything he knows about cooking, too. They show Harry whatever it is they’ve made, whether it’s tech or food, whenever he comes home. The three of them play games and when Jesse’s eyes droop, Harry tucks her in. Sometimes Cisco goes with them.

His own family hasn’t had a game night since Dante died. They eat dinner primarily in silence, the Dante shaped voids between them aching and yawning. The weight of it is heavier on his chest than it’s been in years.

He brings clothes to fill the dresser in the guest room that is slowly becoming his room. His stuff begins to take over. He buys a hair dryer. Harry gets him a laptop and a TV, tells him he can put up any art or decorations that make him more comfortable. Cisco glows but doesn’t change a thing. At the end of the day, he reminds himself, it’s not really his room.

He does stock the kitchen with hot sauce.

-

Cisco and Jesse are making red rice and beans when Harry comes home.

“Dad!” Jesse sprints into his arms when he enters the kitchen.

“Something smells good,” Harry says as he drops down to embrace her in a hug.

“We’re making dinner,” Jesse says. She moves quickly to Harry’s favored chair and pats the seat. “You can sit right here and tell us all about your day.”

Harry follows her direction. She sits next to him. “That sounds great sweetie. But I’d rather hear about your day.”

“Well, in gym we climbed ropes. It was awesome. I got to the top the fastest out of anyone. And I made a 115% on my English test.”

“That’s my girl.” Harry ruffles her hair. “Cisco. When you’re done doing whatever it is you’re doing – ”

“ _Seasoning_. Have you ever heard of seasoning, Harry?”

“When you’re done _seasoning_ , how about a scotch?”

“Not your bartender.” Cisco says, rolling his eyes, but he leaves the pan to get a glass. He pours Harry his drink then brings it to him. “You’re welcome.”

Jesse laughs as Harry takes his drink without a thank you. “We watched this show in film history about a scientist who was trying to crack the code to time travel. Every time he came home from work, he was really cranky, and his wife always brought him a scotch.” Her face is positively beaming when Cisco looks at her. “She wore her hair in a bun too.”

“Well,” Cisco says, busying himself with dinner and making a mental note to wear his hair down from now on. “Why are you taking that class, again?”

“It’s important to have broad interests. Dad says you should try to learn everything about everything you can.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” Cisco mumbles.

“Except I’m a master of all.”

“The class is kind of boring though. I still have a week to switch into another elective.”

“You still thinking about guitar?” Harry asks.

Cisco bristles. When they were first picking her classes, Jesse had expressed her interest in learning guitar. At the time, the idea of hearing her strum the chords had squeezed painful in Cisco’s chest. Dante taught him how to play the guitar. He hasn’t touched one in years.

“That or choir. Cisco says I have the soul of an artist.”

“All engineers have the soul of artists,” Cisco corrects. “Engineering _is_ art.”

“Cisco could help tutor me with choir, too. He has the voice of an angel.”

Cisco flushes. When he tucks Jesse in, he sings her the lullaby his parents used to sing to him. “I thought you wanted me to teach you how to make this?” 

Jesse moves from her chair to his side. He shows her to fry without burning.

“If you really want,” Cisco finds himself saying as Jesse stares intently at the pans. “I can help you with guitar, too.”

“You play?”

“Not for a while but… it’s kind of like riding a bike. You don’t forget.”

They finish dinner. Jesse serves. While they eat, Harry keeps looking at him, surveying as if there’s something new in Cisco he’s missed before. Cisco tries not to preen under the attention.

-

Cisco doesn’t sing in his own home anymore. He tried, at first, hoping it would restore some sense of normalcy to their household, but anytime his parents heard him, their faces would pinch in grief.  

He doesn’t play guitar or build any tech. Mostly he sits next to his father, watching TV World re-runs. He helps his mother clean, cook, and shop. He listens to stories about his cousin’s and their children and misses his brother’s voice.

He also misses his brother’s composing. Dante would spread in the middle of the living room, taking all of the attention and the space and air in the house. Their parents would dote upon him while Cisco hid in their room, building new designs by flashlight.

Jesse decides to take guitar. Cisco teaches her his favorite songs. Instead of sundering his wounds further, Jesse’s interest and ability solder the cuts.

A few weeks into their lessons, he pulls Dante’s old notebooks from under his bed. He has all of the songs Dante ever wrote. It feels right to teach them to Jesse. 

- 

It's another late night for Harry, so Cisco tucks Jesse in alone. He wanders the hallway instead of immediately going to his room.

As the weeks have gone by, Cisco feels less and less awkward being in the Wells home. It’s still strange to walk through the house without Harry there. Especially when he looks at family photos that have Tess. She’s beautiful and from the few times he’s heard Harry talk about her, she was smart and kind and warm.

Cisco feels guilty when he passes the pictures.

He decides to heat up some leftovers and enjoy the Wells giant screen TV.

Harry comes home in the middle of _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ , Dante’s favorite movie of all time. He grunts a hello and drops down on the couch, not as far from Cisco as he could. His head sinks back into the softness of the couch and his eyes fall closed.

Cisco takes him in for a moment. “Rough day?”

“I hate finances,” Harry rumbles, eyes still closed. “And negotiating with people stupider than I am.”

“To be fair to everyone else, you’re a genius.”

Harry’s head lulls to the side. “Careful, Cisco. I’ll start to get a big head.”

“So what big project are you working on now? Or will you have to kill me if you tell me?”

Harry observes him for a moment before answering, more honest than Cisco expected, “S.T.A.R. Labs is in talks to merge with Mercury Labs.”

“Woah. That’s, like, if the US and the Soviets had joined together during the moon race and put a Disneyworld on it,” Cisco says. His own head sinks into the pillow, heavy with the implications. “You won’t be letting anyone go when you merge, right?”

“The talent at Mercury is one of its main selling points, so no.”

“Good. My friend, Dr. Caitlin Snow, works at Mercury. She’s a bioengineer and she can do anything.”

“Dr. Snow’s research is brilliant. I didn’t realize you two were friends.”

“Best friends." 

“How nice for you.” Harry straightens his neck to turn his attention to the TV and winces. “Dammit.”

“Did you hurt your neck?”

Harry tries to shake his head then winces again. “Just been looking at contracts all day.” He rubs his palm along the back of his neck.

Cisco hesitates. He’s been trying to keep his feet planted firmly on the line of professionalism; Harry is his boss, in some ways his co-worker, his maybe friend, but in the movie version of his life, not his love interest. There’s no reason to flirt with the other side of the scale.

“I could rub it out for you.”

The offer leaves his mouth before his brain has fully registered the dire consequences that could accompany getting his hands on Harry’s skin. Harry’s features flicker between a full range of emotions that Cisco can’t place. Cisco is certain, gratefully certain, that Harry is going to refuse. 

“I’m fine,” Harry finally says.

Cisco is going to let it go; it would be weird to push and he does enough inappropriate ogling and fantasizing without the added complications of actually _touching_ Harry. But Harry twists his neck, a sickening pop echoing over the TV, and the inner healer that Caitlin planted in him emerges.

He’s moving to stand behind the couch before Harry can protest again. “I used to get the worst cricks in my neck when I first started at the auto shop. Caitlin showed me how to realign my spine just by rubbing the right places.”

“That’s really not necessary – ” Harry’s argument dies pitifully in his throat when Cisco slides his thumbs under Harry’s neck.

“Sit up.”

Stiffly, Harry does as Cisco asks and sits straight. Cisco runs his thumbs along Harry’s neck to the top knobs of his spine. The move isn’t purely necessary, but Harry doesn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Cisco finds the tight knot of Harry’s muscle with ease. He uses his palm to loosen some of Harry’s stiffness, then presses in with his knuckles.

Harry makes a rough noise that goes straight down Cisco’s own spine. Cisco has always been a fan of making the person he’s into make noises like that.  He likes to make people feel good, and from the groans Harry is spilling, Cisco is making him feel _very_ good.

Cisco wants to bang his head into the wall.

“I can’t believe you have a butler, a bodyguard, and a babysitter, but you don’t have a personal masseuse,” Cisco says, trying to get Harry to talk instead of make increasingly pleased rumbles that are doing nothing to remind Cisco that Harry is Off Limits. “You should totally set up an at home spa here. You’ve got the room.”

“I thought the point of a massage was to relax, Cisco.” 

“Are you trying to say the soothing sound of my voice isn’t helping you find your happy place, Harry?”

Before he can answer, Cisco digs his thumb into a particularly dense knot of muscles, and Harry lets out a noise that goes straight to Cisco’s very confused, very desperate dick.

He tries to pull his hand away, thinking of an excuse to head to bed, but Harry’s hand wraps around his wrist.

“Don’t stop,” Harry grits.

He keeps rubbing until Harry goes completely boneless, then moves to Harry’s shoulders. He alternates between working the knots with hard fingers, flattening his palms to soothe the muscles, and running light chills that have Harry’s head lulling sleepily to the side. 

It feels good to take care of Harry like this, but Cisco tells himself not to get used to it.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” Cisco asks softly, trying not to disrupt the peace Harry seems to have achieved.

Harry seems hesitant, almost strained, to admit it, but eventually he sighs. “I’ve had a splitting headache the past four days.”

Cisco moves his fingers to Harry’s temple then runs them through his hair. It’s softer than Cisco imagined. He takes his time, dragging his fingernails blunt and light over Harry’s scalp. Harry makes another ridiculous noise, pulling Cisco’s stomach taut, and melts.

“That’s – ” Harry begins, but cuts himself off with a deep breath. “You’re good at this.”

Cisco doesn’t know how to take the compliment, so he doesn’t say anything.

He isn’t sure how long, exactly, they stay like that; just knows that after rubbing Harry’s temples with his index fingers he starts to yawn. He wants to sleep but he doesn’t want to stop touching Harry.

“What’s the song you sing to Jesse?” Cisco’s fingers stutter. Harry yawns too. He sounds drunk with sleep. “She said you always sing to her.”

“You want a lullaby, Harry?” Cisco angles for casual as he runs his fingers over Harry’s scalp again. To Harry, it probably is.

Harry doesn’t speak. He only makes more pleased noises, like a cat whose getting all the cream, and closes his eyes. Cisco peers over him and tries to memorize how peace smooths Harry’s face, brings the classic features to a standstill that Cisco can admire. 

“My parents would always sing it to us – to me and my brother. Even when we were way too old for it.”

Cisco rarely talks about Dante. He certainly doesn’t mention his brother with his own family and he skirts the issue when anyone else brings him up. It feels too raw, something rough rubbing between his muscles and ribs. Maybe it’s because Harry knows loss or because Jesse, with her light and artistry, reminds him of Dante in so many ways, but he’s spoken about Dante more in this house than he has in a long time. 

He cards his fingers through Harry’s hair and pitches his voice as low as possible. It feels silly and more than a little embarrassing to breathe out the words his mother used to sing to him, but not entirely terrible. Jesse always falls asleep with a smile when he sings this to her and it’s startling to see Harry’s face can curve into the same shape.

Eventually, whether it’s Cisco’s voice or touch or the exhaustion of the day, Harry’s pleasure moans turn into snores. Cisco indulges in a few more strokes of Harry’s hair before stepping back and shaking his shoulder. 

“Don’t fall asleep on the couch. You’ll undo all my hard work.”

“You do have a nice voice,” Harry says sleepily.

Cisco feels his cheeks heat. He leans into Harry’s space to undo his tie. “Let’s get this off, okay? Then we can go to bed and you can think about taking over the world or hostile company takeovers or whatever your dreams are made of.” 

He’s working the fabric of Harry’s tie when Harry says, “You.” 

“Me what?” Cisco asks, distracted. He undoes Harry’s tie and leaves it open on Harry’s neck. 

“You. I keep dreaming about – ” Harry bites his cheek, suddenly more awake, and pushes Cisco away.

“You’re welcome,” Cisco says over the pounding of his heart. Harry wasn’t saying he dreams of Cisco. Obviously. Harry is exhausted and thankful for Cisco’s magic hands and not saying he dreams about Cisco.

Harry glances up at him. His gaze is far more sober than it was only a minute ago.

“You need to go to bed,” Harry says, voice low, and Cisco isn’t sure which one of them he’s talking to.

-

Harry doesn’t tell Cisco to keep the possible merger a secret, so he talks to Caitlin about it the next time he has her, Barry, and Iris over for dinner. His parents are visiting another aunt and uncle in Coast City.

He orders takeout instead of cooking. When they whine, he tells them he’s pretty much taken over Hewitt’s duties of preparing meals and would like a night off, thank you. Caitlin is much more interested to hear about his dinners with the Wells than she is about the merger, which has been rumored for months. Cisco spends most of the night regaling them with tales from the Wells home. He talks about the lean cut of Harry’s muscles more than he probably should.

After dinner, Barry and Iris linger. They unfairly use their combined adorableness to get him to promise when he’s ready to date, he’ll let them set him up. He has a tendency to choose people that are only going to hurt him. 

Cisco promises.

-

Cisco tells his parents he’s working on Halloween over breakfast one morning. Besides his own birthday, it was Dante’s favorite Holiday. Their parents used to dress them in theme costumes when they were younger. By the time Cisco was able to use a sowing machine, though, he whipped out badass looks. Dante used his connections and charms to get them into parties Cisco would have never even dreamed of trying to crash.

Since Dante died, Cisco spent October 31st at home with his parents, porch lights off, door locked, ignoring the pictures of his brother and himself on the wall.

His mother gives him a sharp look. His father doesn’t say anything. 

When they’re finished eating, his father rolls his chair from under the table. It squeaks – it’s always squeaking.

“Here, dad.” Cisco bends to check out the wheels. “I can afford to buy a new one, you know.”

“This one works,” his mother says as she clears the table.

The leather is worn. The rubber has been replaced countless times. There are callouses on his father’s hands from using it without the necessary gloves.

“You’re in unnecessary pain,” Cisco tries to explain. “And I told you I make a _lot_ more at my new job.”

“Babysitting,” his father mutters.

“I’m mentoring one of the greatest young minds in our city.”

It feels hollow to say, untrue somehow even if it’s not. He wonders if they would feel differently if they knew he was teaching Jesse the way Dante taught him or that she was bringing his music back from the dead. He doesn't tell them.

-

For Halloween, Jesse decides she wants to be a gorilla like the one she saw on her school field trip to the zoo. They build a suit that’s only a foot taller than her – although they wanted one bigger, the logistics didn’t have it in the cards – that includes a voice scrambler and a hatch for her to store bananas and candy. The hatch is Cisco’s idea.

Cisco is in costume and helping Jesse into hers when Harry comes down the stairs.

“Secret Agent dad,” Jesse laughs from inside her suit. Her head is held above the animatronic shoulders. The gorilla shaped helmet is in Cisco’s hands.

Harry is working on his cufflinks as he comes down the stairs. He’s fitted in a tux that makes James Bond look like a slouchy kid. Cisco’s tongue swells stupid in his mouth.

“What are you supposed to be, Cisco?”

“Obviously, I’m Dracula,” Cisco says, pointing to the blood trails on his face.

“Honey, can you – I don’t suppose the suit’s robotic hands have the dexterity to finish buttoning my cufflinks?”

Cisco puts the helmet on the couch and goes to Harry. “Your incompetence at clothes is truly, honestly, astounding. How did you manage to get your own bow tie?”

Cisco finishes the cufflinks. Without thinking, he smooths his fingers over Harry’s wrists, flattening the fabric. His cheeks heat when he looks up to find Harry staring intensely at his hands. Cisco pulls them back as if burned.

“So I took the liberty of re-mapping our trick or treating map to maximize our candy output. All I had to do was create an algorithm based on the traffic patterns and adjusted gross income of the neighborhood. See, you guys have been wasting too much time on low yield houses.”

Cisco pulls out his phone to show Jesse and Harry the map he’s created.

“Awesome!” Jesse says.

Harry nods. “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. And you accessed the tax records of my neighbors how, exactly?”

“Not important,” Cisco says slowly. He pockets his phone then goes back to fasten the animatronic hands to Jesse’s wrists. “What is important is that we are going to hit the mother load of candy tonight.”

-

Jesse fills the hatch with candy, plus the extra bags Cisco packed because he’s an adult who prepares and Harry is, for a genius, kind of an idiot when it comes to accurately predicting how much candy for which to prepare.

After Jesse is divested of her suit and tucked in, Cisco joins Harry in the kitchen to divide candy.

“I never did this when I was little. I usually just ate all my candy in one night.”

“Of course you did,” Harry says as he funnels handfuls into a container labeled February. He’s not frowning when he says it. He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning. 

“I think I’m gonna take this off.” Cisco pulls at the cheap material of his suit. Harry makes a sound, deep and strange, and Cisco looks from his costume to Harry’s blank gaze. “I mean, I’m going to change. Not get naked. Because why would I do that?”

“Cisco.” Harry shakes his head and the not-smile teases his mouth again. Cisco wonders if it would taste like candy. “Why don’t you get us a drink?” 

Before Cisco can remind Harry again he is _not_ the bartender, he says, “Us?”

“You were planning to stay tonight?” Cisco nods. “Then get the scotch. The Macallan ’64.”

Cisco does. He takes a moment to untie his cape and wipe the fake blood from his lips, then returns to the table with the bottle and two glasses. He pours.

“I have to hand it to you. This is more candy than we’ve ever gotten.”

“Yeah, thanks to my awesome candy crush algorithm.”

Harry shakes his head and takes another sip. “You are a singular human being, Cisco.”

Cisco pinches his thigh under the table, trying to stop the floaty feeling that lightens his chest. “Thank you. But Jesse wanted to get more candy than anyone and I just wanted her to have what she wanted.”

“I know. It’s always been my natural reaction to just do whatever was in my power to get her what she wants. Without thinking, without blinking." 

“Yeah. Well. She’s got us both pretty whipped, huh?”

Harry accepts his drink with a nod and takes a long sip. He fixes Cisco with an even, searching gaze. “I was jealous, you know. When Jesse said she wanted you to come trick or treating with us. She’s only ever wanted to go with me.” 

It’s startlingly intimate of Harry to admit. Heat from the liquor – only the liquor - starts to bloom in Cisco’s chest. It moves upwards. “Wow. Dr. Harrison Wells, jealous of me. That’s – what universe is this?”

Harry laughs over his drink. Cisco has come to truly love the sound.

“You’re her dad, though. I’m just her tutor.”

“You’re more than that. But I’m glad. I didn’t expect it.”

Harry finishes his drink. His gaze is even and searching. Cisco’s skin feels stretched and paper thin, as if Harry can see to very bottom of him. He tries to think pure thoughts that have nothing to do with the way Harry’s tuxedo pants stretch over his thighs.

Then, sudden and sober, Harry says, “I didn’t expect you, Cisco.”

Cisco doesn’t know what that means. He can’t identify anything positive or negative in Harry’s deep voice. His stomach flutters, latching onto the rumble of Harry’s tone. It’s too hot.

“I have got to go wash this make up off.” Cisco stands, scraping the chair on the floor. He rushes to the bathroom without a glance back.

-

Cisco takes a ten minute shower. Not ice cold, but chilly enough to make him remember who he is and what life he’s living. This is not a Disney movie or gay porn. Harry Wells - Dr. Harrison Wells - is the man who hired Cisco to take care of his daughter, who builds tech with him, and occasionally compliments his cooking. A torrid love affair that does not make.

Cisco makes himself survey the soap and body wash and hair wash, all with French names and price tags it would probably make him morally upset to learn about.

This is a guest shower in a guest room. He’s a guest in the Wells homes and in their life. It’s not permanent.

-

By November, Cisco has saved enough money to repair his car or put money down on a new one. As much fun as carpooling with Joe to work is, he would like to be able to be the one who picks the gang up for coffee, go to the movies by himself, or take his mother to the store instead of having her ride the bus. He considers buying a car for her but dismisses the idea almost outright. She wouldn’t take it. 

He could take the clunker to Uncle Tito’s garage. They could fix it together. 

The subject comes up one afternoon when he and Harry are looking over Jesse’s latest project. Harry knows a lot about cars, which is not exactly surprising since Harry seems to know a lot about everything. Cisco doesn’t know what drives him to share links to the 2017 Ford Mustang he’s been looking at before he goes to sleep. Dante would’ve taken a bullet to own a Mustang; he always said when he became a famous star he would buy them matching ones. 

Cisco shows the pictures to Joe the next day while they wait in the parent pick up line for Jesse. 

Joe whistles. “Never figured you for a muscle car.”

“Dante always wanted one,” Cisco says. His throat is still tentative around his brother’s memory, but every time he talks about Dante, the muscles get stronger. Harry is helping exercise them. “Besides, Harry said he knew a guy who could get me a really good deal.” 

“Uh-huh.” Joe’s voice is loaded with as much disapproval as two syllables can pack. 

“What?”

Instead of answering, Joe says, “Isn’t that Mrs. Saunders?” 

Cisco slides down and covers his face with his hair. Joe laughs.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry man,” Joe says, not sounding sorry as his laughter continues. “It’s just funny seeing you hide from a woman who probably isn’t 100 pounds soaking wet.”

“I’m not _hiding_. I’m just sparing her from seeing the man who broke her heart.” 

“And people say chivalry is dead. She know you broke her heart for Harrison Wells?” 

“Are we moving any further in the line?” Cisco peers through his hair out the window. A sea of clean faces and bright uniforms greets him. 

“Is Harry going to let you have a girlfriend after he buys you a 30,000-dollar car?”

“First of all, I agreed with Harry that dating Jesse’s teacher was inappropriate. Second of all, he’s not buying me a car. I mean, technically, he pays me the money I’m using to buy it, but – semantics. He’s just using his rich guy connections to help me out. I think I deserve to take advantage of those connections.”

“Cisco.” Joe’s voice goes serious. Cisco turns his attention away from the window, but doesn’t look at Joe. He knows that tone. He knows what follows. “I’ve watched you give your all to plenty of people who don’t deserve it. You let yourself get hurt – ”

“Even when I should know better,” Cisco mumbles, already exhausted. He doesn’t need to hear Joe lecture him about catching feelings for their boss. Another voice repeating what he already knows isn’t going to change anything.

“Because you think that’s what you deserve.” 

Cisco blinks and finally looks at Joe, who is staring straight ahead. This is the longest pick up ever.

“Harrison isn’t – he’s not a bad guy. He’s wound pretty tight and he doesn’t pull any punches, but he’s mellowed a little. Since you.” 

“Is the line even moving? I think that’s Dan Faraday, just standing in the middle of the road. ‘Cause it’s not like people are trying to pick up their children. Jesse is right. That kid is a tool.”

“There are plenty of people who aren’t also your emotionally unavailable boss. You don’t have to scrape the bottom of the barrel not to be lonely,” Joe says.

Cisco bites the inside of his cheek before he can respond. Harry isn’t the bottom of the barrel, his tongue itches to say. Harry is – 

“Finally,” Cisco says when the car in front of them moves. Joe stares at him, serious, before finally putting the car in drive and rolling forward. 

- 

Somewhere along the line, Cisco convinced Harry that family movie Friday would be a good way to bond with Jesse – and keep her at home instead of out with friends doing whatever it is 12 and a half year old’s do now. Cisco becomes a necessary party of movie night because, left to their own devices, Harry and Jesse watch the same film over and over and only have microwave popcorn for snacks. 

The movie of the night is _Star Trek Wrath of Khan_. Cisco and Jesse make chocolate covered pretzels and frozen mozzarella sticks, which pains Cisco a little. Jesse sits between he and Harry. She falls asleep a quarter of the way through. Instead of shutting the movie off, Cisco and Harry watch together.

At one point, Harry wraps his arm around Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse is so close to Cisco that the movement brings Harry’s fingertips with the tips of his hair. Cisco holds his breath as Harry’s fingers absently toy with the strands. Obviously, Harry doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Cisco should say something. He’s going to say something.

He keeps his mouth shut. Eventually, Harry moves his fingers away.

-

Cisco doesn’t examine Joe’s comments. He has made fantastically terrible choices when it comes to romance, but it’s not necessarily his fault. He can’t help that he’s attracted to hot douchebags that like to kiss him hard and trample his heart. He can’t help that the nice girls and boys, the ones who remember his birthday and don’t list him as Pizza Hut in their phone, can’t hold his interest.

When he was younger, he managed to actually love a nice girl named Melinda Torres. She laughed at his jokes and touched his hair. He convinced himself he had a chance with her at one point, but she had loved Dante. Everyone loved Dante, though, and Cisco never blamed her.

Cisco thinks of Melinda as he drives the Mustang from Keystone back to Central City; how she would always ride shotgun in Dante’s car, how Cisco hasn’t seen her since Dante’s funeral. 

He puts on a classic rock station. He can picture Dante’s face splitting into the widest, brightest grin when he pulls into the family driveway. He can’t picture his mother’s face or his father’s, though, and nerves overtake him.

In the rear view mirror, he sees Harry and Jesse in Harry’s favorite BMW. He calls Harry over the Bluetooth. Jesse answers.

“It’s dangerous to use the phone when you’re driving.”

“I wanted to ask if it was okay if we made a little detour? Barry and Iris are having a game night and I told them I didn’t think I’d be there, but I think I can go in time.”

“You just want to show off,” Harry says.

Cisco grins. He wonders if Harry can see it in the mirror. 

“Can we go too, Dad?”

“No,” Harry says at the same time Cisco says, “Yes.”

-

Harry and Jesse end up following him to the West-Allen home, where Wally and Caitlin are waiting with Thai food and Monopoly. It feels awkwardly thrilling to introduce them all, like bringing a girl home to meet his parents; he’s never brought a boy home.

Iris, because she is both a wonderful hostess and occasionally terrifying, talks them into staying for one game that turns into three.

Over the course of the games, Cisco is reminded that Harry is neither social nor polite. Board games always bring the darkness out of any human heart, and Harry’s always lurks close to the surface anyway. Cisco’s become so familiar with it he’s forgotten how intense Harry can be.

Harry murders them in the first game and slaughters them in the second. It’s honestly depressing and more than a little chilling to watch Harry’s dark, flat eyes remain unblinking and cruel move after move. Barry keeps glaring in his direction. Caitlin goes to the restroom and when she comes back, she sits further away from him.

“You’re cheating,” Wally finally accuses during the last game.

“You can’t accuse Dr. Harrison Wells of cheating,” Caitlin whispers.

“How can you even cheat in Monopoly,” Cisco tries to argue.

Harry doesn’t look at him, or any of them, when he says, “I am cheating.”

All of their mouths drop. Cisco feels particularly betrayed. He hasn’t been cheating when they play at home, has he?

“Dad…" 

“This is a good lesson for you, Jesse. Some variables you can’t control, like chance. When that’s the case, you have to find a way to tip the scales.”

“We are _not_ teaching her that cheating is the right way to win,” Cisco says. He smiles at Jesse patiently. “What your dad means is that – ”

“How you play the game means nothing.”

Cisco rubs a hand over his face. “You don’t teach her table manners, now you’re teaching her to cheat at board games. Are you trying to raise a supervillain?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Will you get me another water and stop acting like board game ethics have a connection to real life morality?”

Grumbling, Cisco goes to the fridge to grab Harry a bottle of water. He drops it in Harry’s lap and wonders why he ever had any sort of angst over this man’s hold on his libido.

“You’re welcome.” 

“Now,” Harry says as Cisco takes his seat again. “Jesse, it’s your turn.” 

The tense silence in the room is palpable as Jesse rolls. Cisco feels all of his friend’s eyes on him. He hopes they don’t take any irritation they have against Harry out on Jesse. She’s the smartest and most adorable child to ever exist.

Lady Luck, as it turns out, is a variable that Jesse doesn’t need to control. She rolls and manages to bankrupt Harry in one move. 

“As Cisco would say,” Caitlin says as the group laugh and snap and generally celebrate that good has triumphed over evil. “Yahtzee!”

Cisco would say that. He bumps her fist and ruffles Jesse’s hair as she beams into his congratulations. Harry, for his part, isn’t at all upset. He smiles tightly and kisses her on the forehead.  
  
“That’s my Jesse Quick.”

-

Before they leave, Caitlin and Iris corner Cisco in the kitchen.

“You have severely misrepresented the situation with Harry," Iris says. 

Cisco hisses at them to be quiet. He peers around the wall into the open living room. Harry is watching Jesse and Wally as they play some game on her phone. Barry is watching Harry with something that is a mix of awe and fear. 

“What are you talking about?” he whispers.

“You said he was a robot,” Iris whispers back.

“And that he was not available.” 

Cisco throws his hands in the air. Both of these things were clearly established by the interaction they just had with the man. The women throw their hands back at him.

“You guys are married,” Caitlin says, voice normal tone and volume.

“So, so married,” Iris agrees.

“We’re not married.”

“You bicker, you stare at each other, you know what each other want to eat, and you argue about how to raise your child. Married.” Iris holds up her ring finger for emphasis.

“We don’t – there’s no staring.” 

“There is a lot,” Caitlin argues. “You made it sound like there was no way he was into you and that your pining was of the lust only variety.” 

“Because that’s the reality of the situation.”

“The _reality_ is that you are both so into each other it felt like we weren’t in the room,” Iris says.

Barry chooses that moment to rescue him. “Wally and Jesse just exchanged numbers,” he says. “They’re planning a science date. It’s the cutest thing that’s ever happened.”

That’s Cisco’s cue to rescue Wally, or Harry, maybe. He moves back into the living room to buffer whatever science date is brewing. If he feels Harry watching him, it’s only because Iris and Caitlin planted the idea in his head. 

-

Cisco starts watching Harry more closely.

He and Jesse create a virtual reality underwater game and Harry fixes all the bugs; he looks Cisco in the eye when complimenting his programming. Harry almost always meets his gaze when being encouraging. The only thing it makes Cisco realize is he has a lowkey praise kink and wants to make out with Harry in the lab. 

Cisco keeps teaching Jesse how to cook and play guitar. Once a week she makes dinner herself and puts on a private concert. Harry always beams, kissing Jesse on her head and clasping Cisco on the shoulder. His touches come more often, linger longer. Cisco finds himself cold if Harry doesn’t reach for him.

Because it’s the worst decision to make, Cisco starts spending even less time at home and with his friends and more time with the Wells. His life is full of Jesse and movie nights and massages for Harry when he comes home particularly late. All Cisco has to do is lean in to it and he let himself be swept away.

Harry does stare. Eventually he notices Cisco is staring back, but he doesn’t back down. If anything he watches Cisco more openly.

It’s some kind of bait that Cisco refuses to rise to. He could take it as a sign that Harry’s own desires mirror his own. Even if they do, which Cisco still can’t fully believe, it doesn’t matter.

Cisco can’t pinpoint exactly what world ending disaster will come if he gives in and kisses Harry’s stupid pink mouth one day. If he lets his hands slide over Harry’s thighs during one of their massages or plops himself down in Harry’s lap to suck his sarcastic tongue until it can’t lash so sharply. If he tells Harry no one has ever done anything like help him get the car of his dreams and that Dante would probably secretly like him.

He doesn't know what will happen if he lets himself reach for him, but it will be something devastating. It will have to be, because that’s Cisco’s life.

He lets Harry touch his hair, memorizes the muscle tone of Harry’s shoulders and neck, and hangs onto every ounce of kindness Harry gives. He leaves it at that. 

-

Cisco has trouble sleeping some nights. He tosses and turns and can’t stop thinking.

It’s a Sunday night and Cisco is sleeping at the Wells. He told his mother he needed to go with Joe to take Jesse to school, help her with a big project, but he just wanted to be there when Harry got home. The merger between S.T.A.R. and Mercury is getting closer to being closed, and the farther they get the longer Harry’s hours are. It was one o’clock before Cisco gave up and went to bed.

Dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a vintage t-shirt, Cisco makes his way down the stairs. Warm tea will help him get back to sleep.

When Cisco walks into the kitchen, Harry is sitting at the table, staring into his scotch like it holds the answers to interdimensional travel. He notes the bottle seems significantly lower than the last time he poured Harry a drink.

“Hey Harry,” he says. He moves to Harry’s side. Hesitant, he puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s eyes close. “It’s pretty late. Why don’t you get to bed?” 

“Didn’t think you’d be home,” Harry slurs.

Cisco’s chest seizes when Harry says home so casually, as if this is Cisco’s home too, as if it's always been. “Yeah, well. Feels like it’s been forever since I saw you. How was the last minute meeting?”

“Fine.” Harry peers at him through lidded eyes. “It’s past your bed time.”

“Then it’s past yours too, old man. C’mon.”

Harry, surprisingly, doesn’t put up a fight. He sways a little when he stands. Instinctively, Cisco hooks his arm under Harry’s and around his back. Harry’s own long arm curls around his shoulders. It feels heavy and solid. Warm.

Swallowing hard, Cisco helps Harry to the stairs. He tries not to breathe in the cologne and crisp winter air that clings to Harry’s skin, but he can’t help but inhale the scent. His mouth waters.

“I had a couple of drinks. I usually only have one. You weren’t here to cut me off.”

“I know.” Cisco pats his back. “Maybe from now on just wait until I’m here to make your drinks for you.”

Harry’s head leans against his. There’s warm breath, and Cisco is pretty sure Harry just smelled his hair. Cisco doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to hold them both up.

“I don’t like it when your hair smells like this.” Harry’s breath is warm on the top of his head. “It’s too – it’s not you.”

“This is your shampoo. Or, not yours. The brand Hewitt buys. Come on, Harry, need you to help a little more getting up these stairs. You’re freaking heavy.”

Harry’s cheek drags over his own. “When you don’t stay over, your hair smells like strawberries. I like that better.”

Cisco is trying so hard to ignore the line Harry’s body is burning into his side and the chills that Harry’s deep breathing is raising on his skin. They reach the top of the staircase. Cisco takes a moment to breathe.

“Jesse loves you,” Harry says. He’s fully draped over Cisco now. Cisco’s skin leeches the warmth from Harry’s body and his overactive imagination creates a vivid, 3D fantasy of what Harry would feel like plastered against his back, pushing him into a wall or a bed.

Squeezing his eyes against the too close visions, Cisco breathes out. “I love her too."

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t say anything else as Cisco maneuvers them into Harry’s bedroom. The plan is to get Harry into bed, get the tie off because Cisco knows Harry can’t handle that part himself, then get the hell to his room where he’ll forget that he knows the weight of Harry’s body and that Harry has a favorite way for his hair to smell.

What actually happens when they reach Harry’s bedroom is that, in the process of trying to get the door closed, Cisco somehow ends up pinned against it. Harry is a heavy, inebriated line of heat bracketing his sides.

“You need to lie down,” Cisco tries to explain as Harry stares at some place that must be very interesting on his neck.

“You need to lie down,” Harry says flatly. It’s too dry to be baiting, spoken directly against Cisco’s ear.

Cisco’s heart free falls through his stomach. His nerves are tense, buzzing points of electricity. Heat tightens his groin. Think of nuns, he tells himself, panicked. Think of nuns. Not how good Harry smells. Not how intently Harry is watching the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Not how Harry is telling him to lie down in his bed.

“Yeah,” Cisco rasps when his voice finally crawls back into his throat. “It’s – it’s past both of our bed times, remember Harry? Now let’s get your shoes and tie off, okay?”

“I can take off my own shoes.” Harry goes easily as Cisco guides him to the bed, even as he grumbles. When Cisco manages to get him close, he falls in with a thud.

Cisco pulls Harry’s shoes and socks off. Then he stands to survey the elegant line of Harry’s body. Harry is watching him through half lidded eyes, as if he was poured from some dark part of Cisco’s subconscious into reality. Cisco wants to crawl over him. 

“You got the rest of this, right?”

Harry peers up through his lashes. He blinks before bringing his wrists in front of his face. His fingers are clumsier than usual as he tries to work his shirt sleeves open. Cisco wonders what wrong he did as his past self for this to be his life.

Cisco will just help him with this, because Harry will only be extra cranky if Cisco doesn’t make sure he gets comfortable sleep. For the job, Cisco tells himself, and slides on his knees next to Harry’s side. He starts with the tie then moves to the buttons on Harry’s wrists.

“You’re always undressing me.”

Cisco can feel himself flush. “It’s not my fault you’re so helpless.” Hesitant, he moves to the buttons on Harry’s shirt.

“Only around you,” Harry breathes.

Cisco’s fingers stutter on the buttons. He gets the top three undone, and when he moves to the fourth, over the flat of Harry’s stomach, Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. Cisco’s fingers can’t seem to move from where they’re splayed on Harry’s skin.

“I didn’t think you’d be so important to her,” Harry says, tone more sober now, more somber. “Or that you’d love each other. Or that you’d just… _fit_.”

Cisco swallows hard as Harry’s hand comes up to his jaw. He’s terrified and hopeful, one knot of tension, and isn’t sure what to expect. It’s certainly not for Harry’s rough fingers to brush his cheek before tucking his hair behind his ear. There’s such depth in Harry’s gaze and Cisco knows if he doesn’t leave this _second_ , he’s going to fall to the very bottom of it.

“You can, uh, your pants. You can get your pants.”

Cisco scrambles out of the bedroom. He hears Harry say his name, but he ignores it.

-

They don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about is so pointedly that Cisco starts to wonder if The Incident, as he’s taken to calling it in his head, ever even happened. Maybe it was a fever dream caused by too expensive scotch and not getting any.

Cisco toys with the idea of quitting but rejects it. He’s not squandering this opportunity because he can’t keep his dumb dick out of the equation. All Cisco has to do is not look at Harry’s lips or the line of his throat or think about how those long, clever fingers flex when Harry uses his tools. 

Cisco brings his own shampoo to his bathroom at the Wells home. Harry starts standing closer to him when they work in the lab or when they do the dishes together. One movie night, when Jesse is curled into Harry’s side and Harry is _accidentally_ touching his hair, Harry murmurs how soft it is. He’s half asleep too, but his fingertips brush Cisco’s skin.

-

At the West dinner that week, it’s pot roast, potatoes and gravy, and steamed vegetables. Cisco waits until Joe and Wally are playing basketball outside before he brings it up.

“So Iris. About that set-up. I think I’m up for it, if the offer still stands.”

There’s silence, which Cisco isn’t accustomed to from his group.

Barry is the first one to speak. “Did something happen with Harry?”

“This has nothing to do with Harry.”

Caitlin exchanges glances with Iris and Barry. She puts her wine down and turns to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Cisco, if you talked to Harry about your pining for him, you can – ”

“I’m _lusting_ , not pining. I don’t need a relationship. I just need. You know.”

“To get some,” Barry says helpfully. Iris hits his chest. “Ow, honey. He said it. Not me.”

“So new cop? Still available?”

Iris is significantly silent before saying, “I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel right to set you up when you have feelings for someone else.”

Cisco stares at his dinner plate. He recalls his most pitiful pout as he pushes his mashed potatoes.

“Oh, come on Iris. He’s making the sad baby face. It’s so sad.”

To play on Barry’s whining, Cisco peers at Iris through his lashes. She sighs.

“Fine. Come by the station tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to Cynthia. She’s awesome and beautiful and can totally kick your ass.”

“You so know my type,” Cisco grins.

“But this can’t be one of your run away when you realize she’s perfect for you things,” Iris warns him. “Because I’m serious about the ass kicking.”

-

Cynthia _is_ awesome. She’s gorgeous and hits Cisco with sarcastic flirting within the first minutes of their meeting, which is the quickest way to Cisco’s heart and pants. They have a date for Thai food and _The Princess Bride_ on Saturday.  

He isn’t planning to tell Harry. Saturday is an off day and Cynthia has no connection to Jesse. There’s no reason to tell Harry other than to gauge his reaction, see if he tenses in the same way he did when Cisco was going to have coffee with Kendra, see if he touches Cisco’s hair again or is jealous.

Not that Cisco expects Harry to be jealous. Not that Cisco wants him to be. The goal is to put space between the wild thing in his stomach for Harry and himself.

-

“Jesse is going to be spending Saturday night with her grandparents,” Harry tells him as they tinker with Jesse’s latest invention. “So I thought it’d be a good time to work on her Christmas present.”

“It would be,” Cisco agrees. He looks up to the ceiling and considers the merits of honesty. He could plead family, his own or the West’s, or plans with Caitlin, or maybe pre-meditated death. Their arms brush as Harry reaches past him for a screwdriver. It’s electric and ridiculous and Cisco just needs to be able to stand next to Harry without his stomach fluttering. “But I have a date." 

Harry’s body tenses. “A date.”

“Not with Kendra. Mrs. Saunders. Or anyone else Jesse knows. It’s a new cop at the CCPD. Iris and Barry set me up.”

Harry’s jaw is tight. Cisco wants to feel the tenseness under his fingers. He rubs his palms on his thighs.

“That’s okay, right? I had Saturday off.”

“There’s no conflict of interest as far as my daughter’s concerned,” Harry says sharply. That is clearly anger crackling in Harry’s knuckles as he furiously works at the machine in his hands.

Cisco pops a Twizzler into his mouth to keep it from doing something stupid, like asking if Harry wants him to cancel, if Harry wants him not to date at all, if Harry wants _him_.

“There’s nothing in your contract against you dating.” Harry says it like he’s reminding himself instead of telling Cisco. He keeps working at a screw that’s already in.

“Cool.” Cisco chews on his Twizzler. “I mean, everything is cool. Right? You seem like you’re totally cool.”

Harry snaps his gaze from his project. He zeroes in on the candy hanging from Cisco’s mouth. Without a word, Harry moves forward. His body is corded heat and lean muscle and power. Cisco is frozen in place.

A ring tone Cisco’s never heard before buzzes. Harry’s mouth flattens. He watches Cisco for several rings, as if he’s going to ignore it, but in the end, he answers.

Cisco takes the opportunity to slip out of the workshop. His heart is on the tip of his tongue, beating wild and ready to fall.

-

The date does not go well.

Dinner is mostly awkward silence. He tries to be interested in Cynthia’s stories and the way her hair falls in curls. All he can think about is how Harry hasn’t texted him all day. Harry has been blowing up his phone since he let the dating cat out of the bag – _did Jesse’s field trip permission slip get signed, did Cisco remember to pack an extra battery pack for her lap top, where is the soldering iron, how come there are no clean knives, when did all this hot sauce get in the house_ – but today there’s been nothing. Cisco wonders if maybe Harry has died.

By the time they’re at the movie, Cisco has moved from slightly annoyed to fully enraged. This is emotional manipulation. Harry trained Cisco like Pavlov’s damn dog to expect an onslaught of communication then yanked the proverbial rug out from under him. Psychology may not be Harry’s forte, but he knows how to press Cisco’s buttons.

They’re in line for popcorn when Cisco checks his phone again.

“Okay,” Cynthia says. “I’m leaving.”

“What? Why? I – ”

His phone vibrates and he trails off, answering his phone before he even registers the number on the screen.

“ _Hello. We see you’ve recently stayed at one of our hotels_ – ”

Cisco hangs up with a huff. 

“Really? Are you really expecting something better on that phone than me?” Cynthia puts her hands on her hips in emphasis.

Cisco has nothing to offer her. He can’t even explain how his asshole boss is ruining his life with work, because Harry has chosen this to be the one time he’s not going to nag Cisco about what materials they’re low on in the home lab or the kitchen, even though that’s still Hewitt’s gig, last time Cisco checked.

“I know I haven’t been the best date,” Cisco tries half-heartedly. Cynthia’s pumps are practically already on the pavement. He’s passed the point of blowing it. “I know I’m distracted. But it’s not you.” 

“I know it’s not me,” she says. She steps into his personal space and her scent fills Cisco’s nose. It’s sweet, nothing spicy or dark like Harry’s. “When you think you can handle me, you can give me another call. Until then, lose my number.”

-

Cisco heads to the bar next to the movie theater. He down’s two and a half beers in muggy self-pity before it occurs to him that he shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on his liver but on the actual subject of his frustration.

His blood is warm enough that he can ignore how dumb it is to dial Harry’s number.

“Cisco,” Harry says, and Cisco can read the self-satisfaction that must be on his face. It sounds obscene and the warmth inside of Cisco boils. “I thought you were on your date?”

“You ruined it,” Cisco tells him.

“How, exactly, did I manage that? I haven’t talked to you all day.”

“On _purpose_.”

“What does that – are you drunk, Cisco?”

“ _Yes_. That’s your fault, too.”

“Where are you?”

Something petulant rises in Cisco’s throat. He wants to say _your mama’s house_ or something equally stupid, something that will raise Harry’s hackles, get him down here and in front of Cisco. But even hazy with beer Cisco knows that’s a bad idea.

“Where are you, Cisco?”

“Jack’s Tavern.”

Harry makes a noise that slides all over Cisco’s skin. “I’ll be there. Don’t move.”

“Don’t bother – ”

“Don’t _move_." 

-

Harry shows up half an hour and one more beer later. He’s in an Uber.

Cisco’s life isn’t real.

“No BMW tonight?” Cisco asks as he slides into the backseat.

Harry peers at him with dilated eyes. There’s color in his cheeks. “I’ve had a couple of drinks.”

Fair enough, Cisco thinks. They don’t speak through the rest of the ride.

-

When they arrive, Cisco’s brain short circuits for a brief moment. _Home_ , he thinks, before reminding himself, firmly, no. _Work_.

Harry pays the driver then walks inside. He heads into the family room, Cisco nipping at his heels.

“You gonna ask how my date went?”

“Considering you’re here being snippy with me instead of with _Cynthia_ , I’d say not well.”

Cisco doesn’t remember telling Harry who he was going out with. He doesn’t ask how Harry knows her name. “Ding ding ding. It did not, in fact, go well.”

“I can’t imagine why. You seem to be in top form tonight.” Harry picks up his glass from the coffee table. It’s half full. The amber liquid mocks Cisco as Harry swallows it.

He turns from Cisco, pretending to leaf through papers, and something tenuous inside Cisco snaps. Cisco gets his hand around Harry’s bicep, that is far more solid than it has any right to be, tugging until Harry spins to face him. Harry rolls his hand off and glares.

“You should go to bed, Cisco.” He puts the glass back on the table with a clink.

“Cynthia was beautiful,” Cisco says. Harry’s entire faces twitches. “And she was smart and sassy and totally into watching the Princess Bride, not to mention _me_. And I blew it. I blew it royally and there’s no way I can bounce back because the entire time I was with her, I was waiting to hear from you.”

Then it’s out in the universe. The words have imbued living force into the unwelcome thing between them. Harry stands straight and Cisco can practically see the unspent energy crackling around him.

Cisco tries to swallow the words that are bubbling out of him, but he’s popped. He can’t stop. “I felt like I was out with some girl I picked up while my wife and kid were at home, or something. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jesse. And you. And that’s not – do you get how that’s not _fair_? You two can’t be my whole life. You – ” 

Harry lunges forward. He wraps his hands around Cisco’s arms. “Cisco. Stop talking.”

“You were jealous,” Cisco can’t stop himself from saying.

Harry looks away. His jaw is squared and twitching. “You should go to bed,” Harry repeats again.

“Look at me. Harry. You’re always looking at me. Look at me now.”

Harry does and Cisco’s heart lurches. The months of repressing, of keeping his hands to himself, of not letting himself even fantasize about Harry feeling the same, crash tectonic and ruin his control.

Technically, it’s Cisco who initiates the kiss, but Cisco doesn’t think he can be held entirely responsible. Harry is peering down at him with something between madness and need. He looks like he wants to devour Cisco’s mouth whole and Cisco can’t help but tangle his fingers in the back of Harry’s head to offer himself up on a silver platter.

They kiss with teeth and no limits. Every thought and want Cisco has been trying desperately not to have spills messily over them. Cisco feels soaked and heavy as Harry’s tongue fills his mouth. One of Harry’s hands finds the back of Cisco’s neck, gripping hair, and the other finds the small of Cisco’s back, spreading wide and hot and pushing Cisco impossibly closer. Cisco can’t help the moan he makes when their chests come together.

Harry breaks the kiss with an obscene sound. He scrapes his cheek against Cisco’s, stubble biting with heat the goes straight to Cisco’s dick, and attaches his teeth to Cisco’s earlobe. His tongue laves at the bite before moving to Cisco’s neck. Cisco bares his throat, ever the animal, and yanks on Harry’s hair. Harry makes a noise that sinks into his skin.

“You have no idea,” Harry grumbles. Cisco presses into his hips. They’re both hard and when they rock together, they both hiss. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

The hand on Cisco’s back slips to his ass and Harry squeezes, _hard_ , digging his fingers into the meat of Cisco’s body. Cisco pushes into it. He wants Harry’s fingerprints, Harry’s mark.

“Might have some idea,” Cisco pants. He licks at Harry’s collar bone, sucking whatever skin he can get his mouth around. Harry lets him before using the grip on his hair to angle him back for another consuming kiss.

Harry backs him into a wall. He slots easily between Cisco’s open knees. His thumbs find the soft, hot inside of Cisco’s thighs. Cisco trembles and he _wants_.

“If you’re not sure, Cisco, you have to tell me.” Harry kisses him hard and forces his legs apart farther. He cradles Cisco’s jaw with one hand as he practically unhinges it with a deep thrust of his tongue. His other hand is firm as it slides dangerously close to Cisco’s twitching cock. The word no feels laughable in Cisco’s throat. 

Cisco brackets Harry’s hips with both hands and yanks him closer. He nips at Harry’s chin before finding Harry’s mouth again. He’s never been kissed like someone is trying to suck the taste from him before. He feels dizzy and drunk. He wants Harry to take everything.

“If I don’t?" 

Harry groans as Cisco wraps a trembling leg around him. His fingers dig underneath Cisco’s thigh, hard, and he bites down on Cisco’s bottom lip.

“I mean it,” Harry says against his mouth. “If you don’t want everything, if you don't tell me to stop, I’m going to bend you over that couch and fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

 _Yes_ , Cisco thinks wildly. He catches Harry’s mouth and tries to watch his teeth, afraid if they clack together the spark will turn into fire. When they break apart, Harry moves to suck a bruise behind Cisco’s ear.

“Bring it on,” Cisco pants.

Harry _bites_. Cisco arches into it.

“Clothes. Less clothes.” Cisco’s fingers deftly undo the buttons on Harry’s shirt and he pushes it off Harry’s shoulder. He takes a moment to admire the definition of Harry’s arms before he pulls at the undershirt. Harry lifts his arms and Cisco helps him push the final layer off, revealing Harry’s chest and _abs_. Cisco’s mouth is suddenly dry.

Cisco gets his hands around Harry’s shoulders and pulls him in for another kiss. Harry impatiently pulls at his over shirt. 

“Stupid – _layers_.” Harry nips at his chin and down his throat. He mouths at Cisco over the t-shirt, sucking cotton and Cisco’s nipple.

Cisco figures he’s going to have to get himself naked. He tries to push Harry away long to divest himself of his own shirt, but Harry just pulls then spins him until he’s face first in the wall. Harry pushes his shirt up and slithers down his body, nosing along his spine, licking at his back.

“You’re going to let me eat you out,” Harry says into his skin. “Then you’re going to ride me.”

Cisco groans as teeth scrape over his hip. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

It takes both of them, in a tangle of limbs and desperation, to get Cisco out of his shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers. The press of the wall against his front is foreign and strange. But then Harry’s mouth is on him, everywhere, and Cisco can’t think of the chill.

Everything happens lighting hot and quick. It’s all too much, too soon. He doesn’t even know the way Harry’s hand would feel in his as he learns the way Harry’s hands feel cupping his ass, spreading him wide. His forehead hits the wall with a thud when Harry’s lips ghost over his skin.

“Been thinking about this. Your stupid skinny jeans.”

Cisco can’t help the breathless laugh Harry’s tongue punches out of him. The hands on him push impatient and heavy. Cisco’s never been spread so wide, didn’t think his body was capable of it, but apparently even his muscles are no match for Harry. His legs are butter as Harry forces him wider and up, giving the perfect angle to get that wicked tongue over his hole.

It’s been years since anyone has done this for Cisco. He doesn’t remember it being this wet or hot.

Teeth suddenly dig into the meat of his ass. Cisco makes an embarrassing noise. His hands grope behind him, reaching for Harry, to touch any part he can get his hands on. Harry allows himself to be tugged up. He drapes his body over Cisco and they kiss. Cisco sucks the taste of himself off Harry’s tongue.

“Lube,” Cisco says. Harry sucks his earlobe. It’s _distracting_. “Seriously, Harry, if you’re planning to bust it open, we need lube.”

Harry makes an impatient noise then spins Cisco around again. Cisco is getting dizzy with the breakneck speed.

“We can't take this back, Cisco,” Harry says.

Cisco doesn’t speak. He pushes off his top shirt, then yanks his t-shirt over his head. Nerves well in the pit of his stomach but he focuses on Harry’s mouth, open and hot. All of Harry’s want rests in the dark wet. Cisco can feel it. He wants to taste it. 

They kiss as Harry pulls him up the stairs. A few times, Harry pushes him against the wall, lust bubbling over until he has to bite at Cisco’s shoulder and tug at Cisco’s cock, release all the energy until he’s calm enough to resume leading Cisco to the bedroom.

Cisco falls into bed. “Bedside table,” Harry rasps and works on opening his own jeans.

Cisco doesn’t want to tear his eyes away, but he scoots to his side and fumbles in the drawer. Something crazy happens to Cisco’s chest and his dick when he pulls out the bottle of lube.

“Strawberry?”

Harry’s eyes are predator sharp. “I like strawberry.”

He finally joins Cisco on the bed. Cisco kisses him again and he can’t wait. He’s ready to work himself open if it will finally get Harry inside of him, but Harry has other ideas. He slides back down Cisco’s body and resumes licking him out like Cisco is made of candy. Cisco squirms on the feeling. 

Harry uses his thumbs to spread Cisco wide then spears inside. Cisco can’t swallow the, “Harry, _fuck_ ,” that’s ripped from his throat.

Harry chuckles and it vibrates through Cisco’s entire body. “Knew you’d taste so good. So damn sweet.” Harry nips at him. “Can you come like this?”

Probably. He hasn’t before but it’s never been like _this_ and it’s never been _Harry_. “No,” Cisco says instead. “Want you _in_ me.”

The tip of Harry’s thumb sinks inside him. His body swallows it. “I am in you.”

Cisco considers picking up the alarm clock from the table and chucking it at Harry’s head. Harry maneuvers to get between Cisco’s thighs, then sucks in the head of Cisco’s dick and slides his thumb deeper inside. Cisco’s hands start to shake.

The lube is cold when Harry finally trades his thumb for two slick fingers. Cisco catalogs the familiar sensation of being opened up. It’s been a while, and he knows he’s tight, but Harry doesn’t seem to be complaining. Cisco soaks up the burn and the noises Harry makes around his cock.

Another finger, and Harry pulls away from his dick to suck on his thigh.

“I’m ready,” Cisco insists.

Harry laughs. “Not yet. Gonna get you nice and wet so I can slide right inside.”

 _Christ_.

“Wanna feel it.”

“You _will_.”

He does. When Harry’s got him squirming on three fingers, choking on how easy and good they feel inside, Harry slides them out.

“Come on, Harry. Come on.”

Harry settles beside Cisco. He sits up with their bodies flush and pats his thighs with a smirk. Cisco’s legs are trembling as he pushes himself to his knees, but Harry is leveling a look that drips challenge and need and Cisco’s not about to step down from the plate.

“Cisco.” Harry bites at his jaw, soothes the burn. Kisses him. “Show me what you got.”

Cisco takes his time settling on Harry’s dick. He grips Harry with one hand and curls his other in the head board. Then he slides, inch by agonizing inch, watching Harry’s face the entire him. There’s a thrill of something more than lust and more than power as pleasure crashes. Harry looks filthy and obscene and blissed out. Cisco’s putting that look there.

When he finally settles, ass flush to Harry’s thighs, his forehead dips against Harry’s. He pants, trying to adjust to the size and heat. It burns a little more than he remembers, but it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel anything other than incredible.

“How does it feel?” Harry mouths wet against his cheek.

“Full.” Cisco can feel Harry in his throat, finds it difficult to speak around him. “Good. God. You feel so big, Harry.”

That does something for Harry, apparently, because his big hands curl around Cisco’s hips and dig. Cisco hisses at the pressure. He wiggles and Harry groans.

“Ride me.”

Cisco wants to drag it out, but his hips are on a Harry voice control setting. He settles his hands flat on Harry’s shoulders and his thighs strain as he rocks up then down. It’s tentative at first – it’s been a while since he’s done this – but it’s easy to find a rhythm. Harry thrusts up as Cisco pushes down.

Their mouths connect, open and clumsy. Cisco tries to set the pace, make it steady and smooth, milk as much out of this as he can, but Harry the control freak uses his grip on Cisco’s hips to direct him. Harry’s hips move just as quickly as Cisco’s own. It doesn’t really feel like he’s on top, even though he is, and there’s something addictive about the way Harry bounces him like’s he a boneless, weightless place for pleasure.

“You’re so tight.” Harry’s hand, still slippery with lube, curls around Cisco’s dick.

Cisco’s hips stutter. He wants to fuck into Harry’s grip. He wants to let Harry move him and just soak up the pleasure. But tomorrow, when he’s regretting this, he’ll be embarrassed if he didn’t give as good as he’s getting.

He decides to show Harry tight and clenches. Harry _hisses_. The hand on Cisco’s cock tightens almost painfully, but it’s just the right side of painful. 

“You close?”

Mouth too dry to answer, Cisco nods. He rocks up and down, straining. Harry rewards him with another firm stroke. In the dark, Cisco tastes Harry’s smirk.

Determined not to come first, Cisco squeezes again. His own fingers find Harry’s chest and pinch. He licks into Harry’s open mouth. 

“Come in me,” Cisco pants. He needs to feel it; the liquid heat and the burn. He has to feel it. 

A few more thrusts, and Harry gives it to him. The noise Harry makes when he finally fills Cisco isn’t human, and it’s the force of it almost as much as the feeling of Harry’s hand working him quick and firm that brings Cisco past the edge too. 

Harry rolls them until they’re both on their sides. They kiss until Cisco has to slide from it – everything is too hot and he can’t breathe with Harry’s touch all over him. 

“Should I,” Cisco begins. His mouth is cotton. He smacks his lips a few times. “Do you want me to go?”  

Harry is still. He doesn't say no. “Go to sleep."

Cisco tries to make out Harry's expression in the dark, but the curtains are pulled and the only light in the room is in the blur of the alarm clock numbers. Harry makes an irritated noise and Cisco is gathered into his arms. His face finds Harry’s chest. It’s solid and warm.

“Go to sleep,” Harry says again. 

Harry's arms are suffocating. Cisco can't breathe around the feeling of him. The beer and good vibrations have his muscles relaxed enough that moving sounds like a far worse alternative to melting in Harry's bed, though. Cisco closes his eyes. 

-

Cisco wakes up with a dull, aching throb in his head and his ass.

It’s too much to process without coffee.

Cisco tumbles into Harry’s closet and grabs a pair of cargos that fit too loose on his hips and a v neck that shows an obscene amount of cleavage. He manages not to trip over the too long pants or his own hangover as he makes his way to the kitchen.

While the coffee brews, he finds his discarded clothes but doesn’t change into them. Harry’s are softer. He piles his clothes on the kitchen counter and presses his face to the cool of tile.

He really fucked up this time. 

Maybe, he thinks, he should just go. Turn in his resignation and go home and crawl into bed for the next few years.

A shuffle draws Cisco’s attention. He peers over his forearms to see Harry, clad only in a pair of pajama pants, come into the kitchen. Harry doesn’t say anything, just plops in his chair and rubs his temples.

Cisco swallows. He can salvage this, maybe. “Coffee?” 

“Biggest cup we have.”

Cisco makes his with several big spoonful’s of sugar and more creamer than coffee. Harry likes his black. Cisco sets the mug in front of Harry with a thud.

Harry winces. “Not so damn loud, Ramon.”

“So,” Cisco begins, awkward and unsure. He looks at the ceiling. “We probably should not have done that.”

Harry grunts and sips his coffee.

“Do I still have a job?”

Cisco winces. Not as smooth as he’d hoped, but Harry doesn’t look anymore murderous than he normally does in the morning, so maybe tact is a non-issue.

“I can’t decide,” Harry says, sleep still roughening his voice, “if I like you better in my clothes or no clothes at all.”

Okay. Harry is not focused enough for work talk.

Cisco sits in silence as Harry drinks his coffee. When he’s finished, he stands.

“Back to bed. C’mon.” 

“Um. I actually have. A thing. I should probably go.”

Harry stares him. Cisco might as well be a talking cat.

“But I can come back. After my thing.”

“Fine.”

Harry stares at him for a few more seconds before leaving. 

-

Cisco changes into his own clothes in the downstairs bathroom, avoiding his reflection. He calls a cab, buzzes them in himself, and has them drop him off at his car. Thankfully, she’s undented. He drives around for a while. He gets some aspirin then goes to the Comet Diner for pancakes and so much coffee.

He should go home. Make sure his parents know he’s okay. Sleep in his own bed. Try to figure out what the fuck he’s doing. 

Instead he goes to the park and sits in the parking lot with his head on the wheel. If Dante were here, what would he say? Would he just smack the back of Cisco’s head or give Cisco a high five? He never approved of anyone Cisco dated before, especially Lisa. Cisco doubts Dante would approve of Harry. 

It was a moment of passion and weakness. Harry didn’t seem angry, but to be fair, Harry doesn’t really have human emotions until after 10 o'clock. Cisco thinks he still has his job. Things will be awkward. Cisco can bounce back from awkward.

He watches kids and dogs run through the park. Families being happy and loud. His body still aches, so good and deep, from Harry’s rough touches. If he breathes and stills, he can remember exactly the feeling of Harry inside of him.

He’ll go home, he decides, and take a shower in his own bathroom. He’ll let his parents yell at him. He’ll remember what his life is, then he’ll talk to Harry. They’ll agree it was a one time mistake. They’ll move past it.

It will hurt for a while, but Cisco can handle a little pain.

-

When Cisco tries to open his own door, it’s locked. Instead of fishing out his keys, he knocks. No one answers.

“Mom?” he calls. “Dad?”

He knows they’re home. The lights are on and the TV is blaring. They can hear him. They’re just ignoring him. He could just open the door with his keys.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he yells. 

No answer. They did this to Dante, once, when he stayed out all night. Cisco was the one who snuck him into the house. He thinks Dante would open the door for him now. His hands brush his keys in his jacket pocket, but he doesn’t pull them out. If his parents wanted him inside, they would’ve let him in.

-

He’s half-way to the Wells house before he pulls over on the side of the road. He considers calling Joe, but that would be too awkward. Caitlin and Iris will only squeal and start planning his and Harry’s wedding. 

Barry answers on the third ring. “Dude! You called at the perfect time. How much orange marmalade do you put in the sauce for oven bar-b-que chicken?”

“I slept with Harry.”

“Um.” 

“But only, like, a little bit.”

“Uh, Cisco.”

“And then I ran away, but I’m going back now, only I’m pretty sure I'm going to try to have sex with him again and I’m having a hard time remembering why that’s a bad idea.” 

“I think I’m going to go.” It’s not Barry’s voice, but Wally’s.

Cisco presses his forehead into the steering wheel. “Do you have me on speaker phone, Barry?”

“I’m cooking,” Barry says helplessly. “Wally is gone now. I think I hear the shower running.”

Add Wally’s psyche to the list of things Cisco’s has fucked up.

“So you and Harry finally did the do? Iris was right. I thought it was going to take until Christmas before you guys got in your feelings.”

“What? No, Barry, you’re not listening. I slept with my boss and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I guess I don’t really get what you need to fix? Harrison Wells is a hot, rich genius that pays you to make cool stuff with his daughter and is totally into you. If you guys boning is the biggest problem you have, I think this officially qualifies as your best relationship ever.”

When Barry puts it like that, everything sounds so simple and not at all as angst ridden as Cisco has been suffering the past few months.

Cisco hangs up on him.

-

It’s three o’clock when he gets back to the Wells house. Jesse isn’t supposed to be home until seven. The door is unlocked.

Cisco finds Harry in his workshop.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming back,” Harry says, not looking away from his clear board. Cisco can’t make out the equation.

“My shampoo is here, so.”

Harry stares at the board and Cisco stares at his back. He knows what the muscles underneath Harry's cardigan feel like under his hands, his teeth, how they taste.

Barry is an idiot, but maybe he was right. There’s not a problem here – not in the present, anyway. Cisco can’t see the future and is having trouble imagining what terrible consequences will come from this, even though his gut is already twisted in knots. 

“Things aren’t going to be totally weird now, are they?” 

“Only if you make it weird.” Harry looks over his shoulder. His eyes are blue and evaluating as ever. “You’re making it weird, Cisco.”

“Sorry. Never banged the boss before. You think Emily Post has any guidelines for how to politely navigate this?” 

Harry snorts. “Thought you kids just read blogs now days.”

Their banter is as easy as it was before. Maybe it means working with Jesse will be as easy, too; engineering with her, playing with her, cooking and watching movies with her. Maybe it means everything, the dinners and building and research and massages, will work the same. Cisco won’t lose everything he’s gained. And there will be an exponential growth in opportunities for orgasms.

With a sigh, Harry pops the cap back on his marker and turns. He puts his palms flat on the work space. He doesn’t look at Cisco when he opens his mouth. Cisco moves as quickly as he can into Harry’s personal space. 

“Last night was a mistake,” Cisco says. He puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry doesn’t move away. “But we should probably do it again. Just to make sure.”

Harry finally looks at him. He’s wearing the same expression he wore before he overtook Cisco like a hurricane.

Cisco licks his lips, just to test if Harry will follow the movement. Harry’s grip on the side of the table tightens. Cisco smiles wide.

“We’d be terrible scientists if we didn’t run multiple tests, after all.”

That’s all it takes for Harry to press their mouths together. The fury has cooled from last night, but Harry’s mouth is still warm and wet. Cisco feels a different thrill when he licks at Harry’s lips and finds he already knows the taste.

Harry spreads his hands under Cisco’s ass and, in a move that goes straight to Cisco’s dick, lifts Cisco onto the work table.

“Holy Hannah, that was hot. Your freaking _arms_.”

Harry gets his hands under Cisco’s shirt, fingers splaying over his ribs, and buries his face in Cisco’s neck. Cisco doesn’t hesitate to lean into the firm, insistent press of Harry’s lips. He wraps his fingers into Harry’s hair and Harry’s moan reverberates on his skin.

“Ground rules,” Harry breathes into Cisco’s ear. It’s cheating – what is Cisco going to say no to while Harry slides his palms from Cisco’s stomach to the insides of Cisco’s thighs, spreading his legs so Harry can slot between them. “We don’t tell Jesse.” 

“Obviously.” Cisco hooks his ankles behind Harry’s back and yanks him closer. Kisses his jaw until he can nose at Harry’s earlobe. Why has he been fighting this? “This is on the DL.”

“You don’t sleep with anyone else.”

Cisco checks his feelings before they start to wild. Harry is asking for sexual, not emotional, monogamy, which is about safety more than it is about jealousy. The thought of Harry putting these moves on someone else raises Cisco’s blood pressure. He nips at Harry’s chin.

“You too.”

Harry rolls his eyes and presses his thumbs close to Cisco’s jean clad erection. Cisco tries to squirm closer.

“This isn’t a requirement of your employment.”

“I know,” Cisco says quickly. He cradles Harry’s face in one hand, careful not to be too tender, and wraps the other around Harry’s side. “As soon as I remember that you’re the biggest dick I’ve ever met and that the sex isn’t really that hot, I can break it off without worrying about getting fired.”

Harry kisses him deeply. “Lean back. I’m going to suck you off, and you’re going to watch.”

Cisco helps Harry get his jeans off. The cold of the table feels strange once he settles down again, and he has a moment to think having sex in a workshop is poor procedure before Harry settles on his knees. Cisco balances on his elbows as his brain short circuits. 

Harry licks him first. Gets him wet and trembling and needy. Cisco tries to lift his hips, get inside the heat of Harry’s mouth, but Harry slaps his thigh and gives him a sharp glare.

“Thought you said you were gonna _suck_ me,” Cisco pants.

Harry kiss his thigh then runs his lips along Cisco’s length. “How about saying please?" 

Cisco wants to snap something, but then Harry’s tongue flattens over the head of his cock. “Please, Harry. Before I kick you in the head.”

It’s good enough. Harry swallows him in one swift motion that has Cisco’s eyes rolling in the back of his head. He gives himself over to Harry. Completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Things are, surprisingly and for the most part, the same.

Cisco does everything he did before. He and Harry still bicker, he and Jesse still build and cook and play music, and he still makes his appearances at all the West family functions while making excuses to miss his own.

The only real difference in Cisco’s life since he accidentally slept with Harrison Wells is that he’s getting laid. A lot. Apparently, Harry is a much more dedicated scientist than he ever realized, and is taking to heart the idea of testing Cisco’s hypothesis that this is the worst idea ever.

Harry is his usual ice princess self when anyone else is around, but when they’re alone, it’s like he’s on fire. For _Cisco_. It’s all so comically ridiculous that Cisco doesn’t really know how to react sometimes, other than to be swept away.

The massages quickly devolve into Cisco giving Harry messy hand jobs on the couch. Cisco’s knees become intimately familiar with every floor texture in Harry’s house. They make out in every one of Harry’s cars; Cisco eventually convinces Harry to break in his own Mustang, driving them to a secluded area of beach and riding Harry in the backseat.

Cisco feels like a teenager. Like he really is a babysitter and Harry is the DILF he’s managed to seduce. There’s a thrill that overtakes him anytime Harry’s hands or mouth is on him. No one has ever driven him crazy like this and he’s beyond certain he’s never turned anyone on as much as he seems to turn on Harry.

He lets himself forget every other relationship disaster that’s fallen on him. He revels in the bruises on his body and his new default state of being sore. He’ll regret everything once the bottom falls out, he tells himself. Right now, he’ll just enjoy.

-

Thanksgiving comes and goes. As usual, Cisco brings Caitlin along to his family dinner. He brought her when Dante was alive, too, always finding himself caught between amusement and horror when Dante would flirt with her. They tell everyone they’re not dating and Cisco promises to bring her for Christmas. They go to the West’s for what Cisco considers his real family holiday.

Jesse and Harry spend it with her grandparents. They both text him pictures of the food. Jesse asks what he’s having and tells him she’s sure he could make something better. Harry makes him promise to make hot tamales the next day for dinner.

Cisco wonders if he’ll ever meet the rest of their family. He can’t really think of what point introducing him would do, though, and the idea of never knowing anymore about that part of Harry and Jesse’s life rubs him raw.

-

The chords of _Ava Maria_ fill the Wells living room. Cisco closes his eyes as he listens to Jesse practice; he can picture Dante at the piano, clear and crisp, and hear the echoes of their young voices.

“Do you think I’ll be ready for the school concert?” Jesse asks once she’s finished.

Cisco holds onto the memory a moment longer. When he opens his eyes, he smiles. “You’re ready now. Just need to get your confidence up. Build a stage presence.”

“I wonder if they’d let me wear spandex?”

“Yes.” Cisco claps his hands. "I love it.”

They both break into giggles as Jesse slides off her guitar. “Dad wouldn’t.”

“Maybe that’s what you should give him for Christmas. The Jesse Quick Project debut album, complete with spandex and – oh, wait, it’s coming to me. Krimped hair.”

Jesse laughs again, softer, and settles into a much too serious, pensive stare. “I’m not sure what to get dad for Christmas. I want to make him something, but I can’t think of what. He always gets me the best presents. What are you getting him?”

It honestly hasn’t occurred to Cisco until Jesse turned those wide eyes on him that he should get Harry something for Christmas. He furrows his brow, considering.

“He’s getting you something really good.” Jesse’s grin is wide. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Harry is giving me a Christmas present? Like, he’s putting thought and effort into the present he gets me?”

“Obviously,” Jesse says, slow as if she’s been previously going too fast for him. “You didn’t think he’d just give you a coffee mug filled with bath bombs?”

Cisco didn’t think Harry was giving him anything. He mentally checks coffee mug filled with bath bombs off a list of potential gifts.

“What’s he giving me?”

“I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I’m fine with spoilers. Seriously.”

“No way. He’ll know I told you and then he’ll never tell me any Cisco related secrets again. Now help me think of something good.”

He wonders what other Cisco related secrets Harry has, but doesn't ask.

-

They end up building an inversion chair, complete with heat and nano-massaging technology. The specs are specific to the curve of Harry’s spine and the places he holds tension. It’s hard to rig it up without Harry noticing, but Cisco is a sneaky genius and hides it in his – the guest – bathroom.

Ironically, Cisco assists Harry with Jesse’s gift too. Harry had asked him before they non-officially added orgasms to the benefits of Cisco’s job, but hasn’t brought it up since. Cisco takes it upon himself to corner Harry in the workshop one day.

“You said you wanted me to help you with Jesse’s present?”

Harry is surrounded by DVD’s and photo albums. Curious, Cisco thumbs through them. He’s assuaged with photos of Tess – photos of her alone, with family, with Harry. Photos of her pregnant. Harry doesn’t say anything while he looks. When Cisco looks up from the pictures, Harry is watching him evenly.

Shame creeps over Cisco’s neck. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. Do, uh, you want me to go?”

“I wanted to transfer all of this to a 3D format,” Harry explains without airs. He gestures to the mess of product on the table. “I’m having an issue with the execution.”

It clicks. “You want my help?”

Harry threads his fingers behind his head. The movement pulls up his shirt and Cisco feels simultaneous pangs of lust and guilt.

“I’d like it, yes. You don’t have to. I asked you before – ”

“We started boning, yeah.”

“Eloquent as always, Ramon.” Harry releases his hands.

Cisco surveys the equipment and the photographs. The solution isn’t difficult; Cisco can extrapolate a 3D hologram from 2D images without breaking a sweat, meaning Harry should be able to do it without blinking an eye. Harry doesn’t need him for this.

“Okay,” Cisco says, clapping his hands. “Let’s rock.”

The project doesn’t take long. They work in silence that’s clearly more uncomfortable for Cisco than for Harry. He isn’t sure if Harry is just that obtuse, if he lacks the empathy to realize how intensely awkward the situation is, or if this is the weirdest attempt at bonding ever.

He almost immediately discounts the latter option, until Harry says, “Jesse used to ask about her mom all the time. Now she’s so preoccupied with school and her projects and friends. I just want her to know – not to forget.”

Cisco isn’t sure what the expectations are for him in this situation. He understands this is an emotionally significant moment, different to the physically significant moments they’ve been having. His throat constricts. His chest compresses. He gropes blindly for a joke or a reference. He can’t break the tension with his mouth in any other way, not with Tess watching them patiently in the collage of pictures.

Instead of shutting down the rising stakes, Cisco touches Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll love this. I’m sure.” It seems like Harry wants to say more. Cisco’s never seen Harry like this, so vulnerable and honest. He looks more naked than he does when he’s naked. Cisco picks up the screwdriver and pretends to be productive. “Is Jesse a lot like her?”

“Yes,” Harry says with a tight smile. “Yes, she is. Jesse has her mother’s wit, her kindness. Her ability to get me to do anything she wants. She – Tess, I mean, actually had to convince me to have children. Like she had to convince me to get married. I was happy. I just needed my work and my science and that was enough. Then Jesse was born, and all I wanted was her love.”

It’s difficult, but Cisco can picture it: Harry, all long and lean and tall, holding a tiny crying thing and being simultaneously terrified and in love. Cisco smiles.

“She would’ve liked you.”

Cisco’s fingers slip on the screwdriver. Harry makes a noise and takes over for him. Cisco backs up, gives Harry the reigns, and avoids making eye contact with any of the photos.

“That’s – nice?” Cisco says, unsure. It is nice, in a way, to know that Harry’s deceased wife would like him, although he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t like the fact that he’s sucked Harry’s dick the last three nights in a row. It’s a risk to poke this particular nest, but Cisco can’t help himself, and he’s starting to think everyone is right about his predisposition for hurting himself. “Do I remind you of her?”

Harry doesn’t answer until he’s finished with the screw. He knocks the screwdriver against the table before putting it down. There’s a softness on his face Cisco has only ever seen directed at Jesse.

“In some ways,” Harry says. He’s looking at Cisco, head tilted, leaning against the workshop table. “You’re quick, like she was. She was also very adamant that I be less of a dick, but she was usually more subtle about it.”

Cisco surveys the pictures again. They don’t look alike at all. Tess was tall and blonde and gorgeous. Cisco knows he’s not a complete troll, but he’s nothing like the golden glow Harry’s wife projected even in pictures. He can’t imagine that their personalities are really that similar.

He isn’t sure how he feels about it, then decides it doesn’t matter. It’s not like he’s angling to be Harry’s second wife.

The intercom buzzes, saving Cisco from the bubble of nerves expanding in his chest.

“I’m done with my trig homework. Can Cisco come check it?”

“Go on,” Harry says. “I’ll finish up here.”

Cisco nods and heads to Jesse’s room.

-

Two days before Cisco leaves with his parents to spend Christmas with family, he decides to give Jesse her present. They agreed she would give Harry the chair on Christmas Day. It was her idea, and Cisco doesn’t feel like he needs to be there – or should be. Things have felt soft between he and Harry lately, tenuous and unstable as opposed to torrid and biting. It’s too close to things Cisco has been reaching for in his other relationships. Too close to the edge of falling in something sharp.

At dinner with Jesse and Harry, he passes her the leather bound music book he created. Dante was always the composer between them; he tried to get Cisco to follow his lead plenty of times, but everything Cisco wrote was lame in comparison. The tune he wrote for Jesse is miles ahead of the flimsy indie jams he penned when he was 15. Her eyes round and glisten when she opens it.

“Composing music is supposed to help stimulate mathematical reasoning,” Cisco says, more for Harry’s benefit than Jesse’s. “My brother was always the genius when it came to stuff like this but I can help you the basics.”

“This is awesome.” Jesse runs her hands over the front of the book. “Dad, can we please give Cisco his present now? Please?”

“Pretty please?” Cisco adds.

Harry rolls his eyes but his dimples are in full bloom. “Fine.”

Permission granted, Jesse grabs Cisco’s hand and tugs him through the house. She leads him up the stairs, in front of a room that Cisco has always been told is Harry’s private study but has never actually seen Harry enter.

“My present is a door?”

“Your deductive skills are truly dazzling,” Harry says once he’s finally caught up to them.

Jesse rocks on her heels and tugs Cisco’s hand. “Open it!”

Cisco looks to Harry to confirm the order. Harry nods. His lips are twitching. Suddenly nervous, Cisco drags his teeth over his lips.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake.”

Harry pushes the door to reveal… not a study. Not a study at all.

Cisco’s mouth falls open in awe. The study turned not a study is sleek, shining with stainless steel, two large desktops with bouquets of wires, microscopes, clear boards, and more tech and tools than Cisco can take in. It’s another workshop, almost the mirror of Harry’s own, only with what appears to be a few extra electronic toys.

“Did I die and go to tech Heaven?” Cisco turns to Harry, who’s leaning with a self-satisfied smirk in the doorway, and Jesse, who’s bouncing on her toes.

“Do you like it? It was my idea,” Jesse says. Harry frowns at her and Jesse knocks her elbow in his side.

“Yes. It was all Jesse’s idea.”

“Dad helped a _little_.”

“Wait.” Cisco’s brain stutters over the implications. “This is my present?”

“This is your present,” Harry confirms. “This is your workshop.”

Cisco has to force his feet steady, because he’s a second away from jumping into Harry’s arms and shoving his tongue down Harry’s throat.

“I think he likes it,” Jesse says.

-

Cisco takes his time to touch every single thing in the workshop. Everything is state of the art. It’s all beautiful and all his and he’s so overwhelmed he hasn’t spoken.

“If I’d known this is all it would take to shut you up, I’d have converted this space into another workshop months ago.”

Jesse is downstairs now – they’d both left to let him get acquainted with his workspace – so Cisco doesn’t clench the desire to seize Harry in a deep kiss. Harry’s hands automatically curl in his hair.

“This is the most insane thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe it.”

“It really was Jesse’s idea,” Harry says between kisses. “You can do whatever you want. Just let Hewitt know what supplies you need.”

"Why?" Cisco asks, because he can't not.

"Because you should have it," Harry says. Simple.

It's not simple, though. It can't be. Cisco's eyes feel fuzzy and dry. His head feels heavy. His stomach tries to crawl through his mouth, split and spill because how else can he show Harry the humility and warmth and desperate gratitude that is tight inside of him. 

He can't pin all the flutters that rush his chest. He doesn't dare articulate it. Harry isn't performing a Grand Gesture. This doesn't mean - Cisco isn't sure what it doesn't mean, but it _doesn't_. 

“What do you say we christen this place?” Cisco sucks on the strong square of Harry’s jaw. His fingers drop to the button of Harry’s jeans. “Let me show you how much I love it.”

He tries to drop to his knees, but Harry tugs on his hair to keep him in place. “Jesse’s just downstairs,” he mumbles into Cisco’s neck. “Tonight. We’ll break it in.” 

Cisco groans and angles his throat, giving Harry more skin to kiss. “The West’s are having their Christmas party tonight, remember? Joe invited you.” 

Harry sucks his earlobe. Panic strikes his heart for a brief second. Game night was one thing, but Christmas is another thing. An Official Thing. 

"And I passed." Harry bites. "It's still a pass."

Cisco slides his fingers through the belt loops of Harry’s jean and tugs him close. This is a steadier field. He knows what to expect here, what to do, how to breathe. "I'll come by after. I still haven't give you your Christmas present."

Harry rests their foreheads together. His eyes are blown black. That look goes straight to Cisco’s dick.

-

Cisco doesn't mention anything about the workshop at the West's that night. It's on the tip of his tongue a dozen times.  _Harry built me a workshop. I have two rooms in Harry's house. He just thought I should have a place to build whatever my heart desires._

It's been difficult enough to keep his Harry stuff from bleeding into his life stuff. The line keeps shrinking; it's fingernail thin now, and as much as he keeps digging his teeth into it, he's starting to slip. First Harry opens the cavity of his past and gives Cisco that morbid seal of approval, then Harry further sunders his world to make another Cisco shaped place. Cisco's own house, his own parents, are getting fuzzier around the edges while the Wells keeping growing sharper, looming larger, feeling more and more like home. 

He avoids questions about work, about Harry and Jesse. Wally and he string lights on the Christmas tree. Iris serves hot toddies. Caitlin has a  _boy_ with her. His name, according to Barry, who beams with pride at having made a successful match, is Julian Albert, and he works with Barry and Iris at CCPD. Cisco doesn't ask about Cynthia. 

At one point, Iris drunkenly pulls him near the mistletoe, whispering something about making her man jealous. Cisco is a mess of giggles when she puts her hand over his mouth and makes obnoxious kissing noises. It sends the rest of them into laughter, too. Barry is still smiling when he joins them and elbows Cisco’s playfully in the ribs. He finally pulls Iris into a chaste, true love kiss that makes Cisco’s cheeks hurt.

Cisco is half-jealous as he watches them. Everything has always been so easy between them; he’s never met two people more right for each other. More in love. 

He leaves the party earlier than normal, citing drowsiness. Barry winks at him when he leaves.

-

"Jesse said you helped her with my present. I thought I was supposed to wait until Christmas?"

"This one is just from me," Cisco says, nipping at Harry's chin. "Now go sit in your chair."

"Bossy."

Harry goes, though, settling with feigned exasperation into the leather chair next to his bed. He stretches his hands behind his head, spreads his legs wide. His easy position is practically obscene. Cisco's mouth dries and for a moment, he forgets his plan. Then Harry smirks and Cisco's blood boils in an entirely different direction.

"So what's my present, Ramon?"

Cisco leans against the door, trying to match Harry's lazy furl. His heart is beating too fast. The heat coiled tightly in his stomach is threatening to burst. He has to remind himself to breathe.

"First, I'm gonna undress."

The loose lust that's been draped over Harry goes taut. He shifts in the chair, eyes darkening, breath coming faster. All the nerves fluttering through Cisco still. He has Harry right where he wants him. 

"Then I'm going to get on the bed. You're going to stay right there and watch me finger myself open for you."

Harry takes a breath so sharp it looks like it hurts. Cisco grins.

"And you're not allowed to touch until I make myself come."

He doesn't wait for Harry to agree or disagree. Harry looks ready to slide wet out of his skin and devour Cisco in one bite. Satisfaction curls around Cisco's body, muscles, bones.

Watching Cisco touch himself is a _thing_ Harry has. It made Cisco uneasy, at first; he felt like he was dissecting himself for Harry's curious, biting fingers. But as it became increasingly clear how intensely Harry got off on Cisco getting himself off, Cisco found a heady sense of pleasure, of  _power_ , in working Harry into this particular frenzy.

Cisco moves as slowly as he can. Toes off his shoes, pulls off his socks without falling over once, then uses both hands to peel off his t-shirt. It feels _ridiculous_ , but Harry is watching him with the same blown pupils that made Cisco go dizzy in his lab.

 _His_ lab, the one that Harry built for him, to just do whatever he wants.

The black winds of unnamed emotions rise again, but Cisco pushes them down. Focus on the stripping. After the stripping comes the sex. Feelings later.

Once he’s finally undressed, he grabs the lube from the dresser and settles on the bed. Harry puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward. His dick is already a blood heavy line against his pajamas. Cisco licks his lips.

Aesthetically speaking, Cisco thinks it would look best if he were on his back, but that’s not a great angle for him. His skin feels tight, nerves buzzing not with humiliation but with power, as he settles on his side.

Harry makes a sound like he’s been hit. Cisco casts his gaze over his own shoulder to see Harry’s face, eyes focused as Cisco trails his fingers over his own skin.

Cisco doesn’t tease himself when he's alone, but he does when he's with Harry. He presses his index fingers against his rim, gasping at the same time Harry makes a strangled noise. His eyes flutter closed so he can focus on that noise. He clings to it, to the sound of Harry's panting, to the warm weight of Harry's want sliding over him. By the time he works one finger inside, his cock is drooling against his own stomach and his heart is beating heavy against his chest.

He hears Harry moving and looks back, glaring. "Told you, Harry. You're not allowed to touch."

"I'm not," Harry says. He sounds far away. "You didn't say I couldn't get a closer look."

Cisco considers how important his rules are, especially to his own self-control, but doesn't protest when Harry slides behind him on the bed. This is Harry's present, after all.

"You gonna take all day?" Harry rasps. His voice scrapes against Cisco's cheeks, his belly, his thighs, burning like thick stubble that sinks into his softest parts. 

He rubs the pads of his index and middle fingers over himself. Presses in, shallow. Twists. Harry  _growls_. Cisco doesn't need to look at him to know his fists are clenched and shaking with the effort of keeping his hands to himself. 

"Gonna get myself so wet for you," Cisco pants. "Nice and sloppy. The way you like it."

"Christ."

Cisco keeps moving molasses slow. He groans as he feels himself stretching, filling. Finally, he adds a third finger. He looks for that sparking spot inside of himself but his wrist is starting to ache. He pumps his hips, sliding his cock over the silk soft of Harry's bed.

Then there’s a rustling of clothes, the bed rising and dipping. Cisco shudders when Harry slides against him, naked and hot.

Ignoring all of the rules, Harry murmurs, “Here." He reaches for the lube, getting himself wet, and with a slick slide, adds his own finger with Cisco’s.

Cisco is too full to be annoyed. Harry obeyed far longer than Cisco imagined he would, anyway. 

He squirms at the new sensation of his fingers rubbing with Harry’s, being clenched in his own heat. “Fuck, Harry. More.”

Harry starts a rhythm and Cisco’s fingers stutter to match it. Harry’s long body drapes over his. He groans as Harry’s mouth moves over his arm, his shoulder blade, his neck. It hurts to twist up, the angle is awkward, but he ignores the pain and offers his mouth. Harry takes it deep and sudden. His finger speeds. Cisco struggles to keep up.

“Ready, Cisco?" Harry kisses his neck, his jaw, his shoulders. 

"Not yet. M'close. Just a little - fuck.  _There_."

They finally find a rhythm that has Cisco shaking from the inside out. Half of him doesn't want to finish; wants to say like this, stuffed, Harry's pleasure plugged straight into his, moving with him in a quick, slick slide. The other half is thrumming with need.

He starts rocking back into the joint pressure of their fingers. "Harry," he says, mouthing at the bed. The cool kiss of sheets against his dick and the thick stretch of their fingers is finally enough, and Cisco spills.

With a grunt, Harry slides their fingers from Cisco’s body. Cisco has a few moments of aching emptiness while Harry lines up. He nearly chokes when Harry slides right back in.

Harry sets a slow pace, fucking in deep and steady. Cisco meets him thrust for thrust and twists his head, searching out Harry’s mouth. Harry curls his hand around Cisco’s hip, fingernails digging craters into Cisco’s skin. When Harry speeds up, he slides smoothly to grip Cisco’s cock. Cisco hisses, too sensitive, but Harry doesn't give him any reprieve. Cisco sags against him, letting him take what he wants and enjoying the ride. He feels sated and heavy.

When Harry comes, he bites the back of Cisco's neck, burying the sound of his orgasm in Cisco’s skin.

-

Christmas with Cisco’s family goes about as well as can be expected. Caitlin ends up hitting it off with Julian and Cisco lets her off the hook of attending the Ramon family get together. Alone, he faces the usual questions about when he’s getting married, when he’s having children; now there are bonus questions about why he left Tito and when he’s going to get a real job. 

Around his aunt's living room, his cousins run and his uncle plays piano and they all sing carols among the laughter. Cisco wants to slip outside, let the cold bite the discomfort from his belly and replace it with hypothermia. 

He finds himself looking to the armrest on the couch, Dante's designated spot.  _Harry built me a workshop_ , he wants to say, because he still wants to tell Dante everything that happens to him. He still wakes up thinking about how weird Dante will think his dreams are. He comes home excited to tell Dante how quickly Jesse is picking up her music and what he did to annoy Harry that day. 

The last Christmas they spent together, Dante gave him a bottle of Jack Daniels and a leather cuff. Dante thought it would add a cool factor to Cisco's wardrobe. Cisco had laughed it off. He wore it one day at college, then threw it away. It was the last thing Dante gave him.

-

Coming back to the Wells is a welcome change. He missed Jesse’s energy and wit. He missed Harry’s dick. 

He finally gets to break in his workshop. It's overwhelming, at first; he's always been full to the point of bursting with ideas and now that he has the means to create all the pictures in his head, his fingers just flex stupid. Eventually, he decides on building his own drone. He put in the order with Hewitt before he left, and when he gets back, when Jesse is done with her homework and making dinner, he spends three hours alone, just working. He loses track of time and the outside world. 

When his eyes are blurry and his fingers are tense, he takes a break. He feels exhausted in a way he hasn’t in years. His neck aches - he wonders if Harry will trade him massage for massage - but his shoulders are loose from work. 

He lays his cheek on the cold of the table and can almost feel Dante’s hand on his shoulder, hear Dante saying his name, telling him to stop playing with his toys and come to dinner.

He’s in half sleep, half memory when Harry finally comes in to see what he’s been working on. He almost says his brother’s name before he sees it’s Harry mouth saying his name.

- 

There’s a Valentine’s Dance at Wally’s school. He asks Jesse to be his date. Harry says no initially, but Cisco and Jesse combine their powers of pouting and manipulation to change his mind. Cisco teaches Jesse how to slow dance, just like his mother taught Dante and himself.

They bake cupcakes for Jesse’s school. Cisco saves one for Harry.

Joe chaperones the dance. Cisco takes pictures of Jesse and Wally while Harry tries not to hover.

Cisco offers to take Harry’s mind off the dance, but Harry only glares at him. They order in and Harry breaks out a bottle of champagne that costs more than Cisco’s entire life. It feels dangerously close to a date, except there’s no sex. There’s some tipsy kissing while they wait for the kids, but it's all lazy, hands over clothes, mouths above the neck. There's more after Jesse gets home. Cisco even ends up falling asleep in Harry's bed, but everything is strictly PG-13.

It’s the most romantic Valentine’s Day Cisco has ever had.

The next morning, Cisco wakes Harry up with his mouth around Harry's cock. He can pretend it counts as part of Valentine's Day. 

-

A few weeks later, the merger between S.T.A.R. and Mercury Labs is complete. A formal celebration is planned that neither Harry nor Jesse want to attend. Harry is a cranky douche about the speech he has to make. Cisco mocks him one too many times and ends up getting roped into attending too.

Cisco has to get fitted for a tux and find fancy shoes. Of course, the pants that fit his ass the best are the most expensive in the store Harry brings him to; he would go with the ones a few price points down if Harry didn’t keep coming into his dressing room to ogle him. Harry offers to pay, but it’s not like Cisco has been doing anything with his money. He pays for his phone, car, gas, and whatever his mom will let chip in on, which isn’t much. He has more than enough.

It’s annoying, once he thinks about it, once he realizes how Harry supports most of his life. He doesn’t pay rent for the place he spends the most time at, or buy the food he cooks, or any of the equipment he’s using in the lab that Harry created for him. He’s practically a kept boy.

The night of the party, Cisco is still annoyed. 

“I feel very _Pretty Woman_ right now,” he tells Harry when they arrive at S.T.A.R. and Jesse is out of ear shot.

“You look pretty,” Harry says flatly, fussing with his cuff links. “Maybe you should’ve curled your hair too, instead of just wearing it up like that.”

He reaches to tug at Cisco’s bun and Cisco bats his hands away. “Just because my hair looks bomb dot com and you look a hot mess, doesn’t mean you have to be a grabby dick. Now stop messing with your tux.”

“I hate these – ”

“Good evening, Harrison.”

Cisco looks up from Harry’s hands, dropping them immediately when he sees the couple standing in front of them. He recognizes them as Jesse's grandparents, Tess's parents: Jack and Danielle Morgan. Both doctor's, joint CEO's of S.T.A.R. Labs, and primary shareholders. Harry would be CEO if they ever stepped down. Cisco knows he's waiting, teeth grating in impatience, for them to hand it over. Cisco doesn't understand why they won't.

“You must be Francisco Ramon.” Jack extends his hand. 

Cisco’s palm is sweating as he grasps it. “Hello. Dr. Morgan. It’s Cisco, by the way. And a pleasure. And you must be Dr. Morgan as well.” Cisco nods to Danielle.

“The pleasure is ours. Jesse has said you’re quite the tutor.” Her smile is tight and there are no lines on her face. Botox city, but Cisco isn’t judging. “Of course, the man we suggested for her tutor wouldn’t have distracted her by also adding guitar into the program.” 

“Or cooking,” Jack says.

“Working with music stimulates the same areas of the brain as mathematics,” Harry says crisply. “But I’m sure you both knew that.”

“There are crab cakes,” Jesse interjects. “Cisco loves crab cakes.”

“That I do. Lead the way, Quick. Dr. Morgan’s, I’m sure you all have some catching up to do.”

As he tries to escape the awkwardness quickly descending, Harry grasps his shoulder, fingers digging hard.

“I need you to be the sounding board for my final speech."

“Waiting until the last minute as usual, Harrison,” Jack says.

Cisco waves helplessly to Jesse as Harry hauls him away from the main floor to an elevator.

-

“Well that was unpleasant,” Cisco huffs when they finally reach Harry’s office.

Harry clenches his fingers. He paces around his own desk, on edge. “Tess and I built this company. Her parents fronted the money but it was our ideas, our science, that made this place what it is today. And they act like I stole it from them.”

Cisco’s never seen Harry so pissed. It makes Cisco’s own stability warble, especially at the mention of Tess. The irritation he carried into the night dulls to a buzz and his focus shifts to Harry's scattered anger. Cautious, he puts his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry doesn’t move. Cisco tries to rub calm through Harry’s suit into his skin.

“Hey. You just have to mingle a little. Make one rousing speech to get all the troops and reporters excited, then we can take Jesse and get some Big Belly Burger.”

“Can we skip the mingling and go straight to the burgers?” Harry’s voice is still tense but his muscles are melting under Cisco’s palms.

Cisco smiles. “No. But if you give a really, really good speech – ” Cisco steps forward, digging his thumbs in deep, and brushes his mouth over Harry’s neck. “ – then I’ll give you whatever you want when we get back.”

“You really need to learn something about bartering sexual favors. Professional tip. You can’t entice me with things you regularly do.”

Rolling his eyes, he offers, “Then I’ll give you whatever you want now.”

Harry slides in Cisco’s hands to face him. Harry looks particularly distinguished in a tux: handsome as ever, dimples and crow’s feet digging deep, hair actually coiffed instead of carelessly tousled. Cisco suddenly feels young and completely out of his depth.

Harry rubs at the dimple in his chin, then leans in to kiss it. Harry’s lips are more tender than Cisco is used to. 

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Harry whispers, demand a harsh juxtaposition from the softness of his kiss. Cisco hangs onto the roughness, finding anchor in the teeth of Harry's need. “Make a mess of your ridiculous hair. Make a mess of you.” 

Finally. An idea Cisco can get behind. He grins and sinks to his knees. Harry’s hand digs into his hair. Everything slides away; the annoyance that has been rubbing his skin raw, the nerves that have been needling his stomach queasy, the condescending glares and tones of Jesse’s grandparents. All he has to think about is the cold floor beneath him and the taste of Harry on his tongue.

Cisco wants to take his time. Tease Harry with kisses and kitten licks. Suck at the skin of Harry’s thigh. Peer up at Harry through his lashes until Harry just can’t be patient, just _takes_ Cisco’s mouth.

But they don’t have time and Cisco is happy to deliver quick and messy. He can already feel how much Harry wants it, taste it in the pre-cum drooling, hear it in the ragged drags of Harry’s breathing. Harry’s nails dig into his scalp as Harry guides his open, waiting mouth down the length of his cock. He doesn’t stop until Cisco is pressed flush against him.

They fall into an easy rhythm. Harry pumps his hips in and out, holding Cisco’s head still with a firm grip. Cisco hollows his cheeks when Harry fucks in, tongues at whatever flesh in his mouth when Harry fucks out. Wetness pricks Cisco’s eyes. His jaw starts to ache and burn. He’s so hard in his own pants that he can’t help but rub himself over the fabric.

“Get yourself off,” Harry grunts.

Cisco doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly pulls himself out of the trousers and works himself into a frenzy. Harry bites his own fist when he comes, trying to muffle his shout. Cisco swallows every drop.

When Harry pulls out, he keeps pulling Cisco’s hair. Cisco gets his own hand wet with spit before resuming jerking himself. The feeling of Harry’s hands, of Harry watching him with such intensity, is enough to push him over the edge.

He is a mess once they’re finished. His hair has been pulled out of its bun, his pants are disheveled, his knees are aching, and his hand is wet with his own slick.

“You have no idea what you look like right now.”

Cisco winces. “I have some idea. Probably still very _Pretty Woman_ , just the NC-17 version.”

“I feel significantly less motivated to go make nice with all of those people.”

Cisco does his best to clean himself up. He helps Harry tuck his shirt back in and look somewhat presentable. Harry kisses him when they’re both put back together. It feels too chaste for everything they just did and Cisco dances away from it.

“I should go down first. You should probably wait 10, 15 minutes before you leave,” he says, wiping at the back of his mouth.

“Why don’t we just ride the elevator back down together?”

“Because you look like you just got your brain sucked out through your dick and, while I haven’t looked in the mirror, I’m sure I look like I was just ridden hard and put away wet. We come out together and we won’t be able to keep this on the DL.”

Harry’s grin is shark sharp, dripping salacious and satisfied. Cisco can’t help but lean in to taste it.

“You have a point. But let me go first. I think it will take you a minute to deal with this whole situation.” Harry circles his hand around Cisco’s hair.

Harry leaves and Cisco spends a full ten, frustrating minutes trying to redo his bun before he gives up. He combs through his hair with his fingers until he’s marginally presentable. 

-

The speech is rousing. Cisco manages to find Caitlin in the crowd – dodging her questions about where he’s been and why is his hair down, wasn’t he going to wear it up tonight – and they are both fully wrapped in Harry’s voice and message. Afterwards, Caitlin shakes Harry's hand and tells gushes about how excited she is to work with him.

Cisco can feel the Morgan’s eyes on him through the rest of the night. Later, Jesse promises they liked him, but they both know he's lying.

But Cisco is used to being judged. He's even more used to being found lacking. His hair was always too long for a boy and always too messy for a scientist, his clothes were too cheap or too young. He was never _right_. Dante had been his only friend until he met Caitlin his senior year in high school, found Barry and the West’s through her. He fit with them. The way he thought he fit with Harry and Jesse.

Cisco knows Harry and Jesse aren't the Morgan's, but he also knows they are closer to science royalty than to Cisco. The night finally provides a glimpse of the fall out Cisco has been preparing himself for since he and Harry first touched. As much as he feels he fits seamlessly into the Wells lives, he doesn't. He's all bumps and crags and complications. There is nothing smooth about his place with them. 

In the end, he's thankful to the Morgan's for reminding him of all his uneven edges. When they leave for the night, he makes sure to tell them how nice it was to finally meet them. He's not lying.

-                                                                            

Cisco makes a point of staying the next four nights at home. It’s more tense than he remembers.

He let the distance build up again. He’s been so wrapped up in Jesse and Harry, in his new workshop, in the new _life_ he let himself play inside, that he stopped putting the effort into the relationships that will be there once Harrison Wells and everything that comes along with him is gone.

On the fifth night, when Jesse has shut Cisco out of her room because she can’t compose with him _hovering_ , Harry yanks Cisco into his own workshop and pins him to the wall, mouthing at his neck. Cisco doesn't make it to his parent's.

Harry doesn’t say he’s missed Cisco in his home. Cisco doesn’t say he’s missed being there.

-

Jesse volunteers Cisco to be a chaperone for a school field trip to S.T.A.R. Labs. The tour guide leaves a lot to be desired. Cisco doesn't like being That Guy, but he can't help interrupting her. She doesn't know the gritty history of the labs or the research or Harry himself. She also doesn't have any passion for what she describes. The kids in Jesse's class go from glassy eyed to intrigued as Cisco covers how innovations created in these very labs have shaped their lives and how the work being done today will impact the future.

When it's time to break for lunch, Cisco slips to Harry's office to persuade him to join Jesse at the cafeteria. 

There's a man who can't be much older than Cisco sitting at a desk across from Harry's office door. Cisco hasn't seen him before, and he doesn't remember any mention of Harry having a secretary or personal assistant. Cisco instantly empathizes. 

"Hey," Cisco greets casually. "Is Harry in there?"

The disdain in the man's gaze is nothing short of cutting. "I have no idea who you think you're looking for, but trust me, whoever Harry is, he doesn't want to see a man in purple skinny jeans."

There's something familiar about the man, but Cisco can't place it. He tries to counter the cloudy disposition with his best sunshine smile. "Sorry. I'm here to see Dr. Wells."

"You don't look like you're here to see Dr. Wells."

Cisco narrows his eyes. "What exactly do I look like?"

"Like you're going to Burger King. Would you like the directions for Burger King?"

The voice. The bitchiness. Finally, it clicks. "You're Captain Needa."

"I'm sorry, do you think you're in Star Wars?" Needa picks up the phone. "I'm calling security."

That's the moment Harry emerges from his office. "Ramon," he says, surprised. "Rathaway. What are you doing on the phone when I have a visitor?"

Needa - Rathaway, who Harry has talked about before - hangs up. "Dr. Wells. This - _person_ \- "

"How do you manage to make the word _person_ sound like a slur?" Cisco throws up his hands. "Harry. Your secretary is rude as hell. You need to get some customer service training up in here."

"He's not my secretary," Harry says, exasperated. "He's one of my most brilliant engineers."  

Rathaway smirks, cold and arrogant. Cisco feels hot with jealousy. He's only ever heard Harry compliment Jesse before. Hearing kindness directed at anyone else pulls sour at Cisco's stomach. 

"But he pisses me off a lot. So sometimes I make him sit in for my personal assistant until he can stop being a dick and get along with his team."

"Ha!" Cisco laughs as Rathaway's face falls. "Awesome." When he moves for a high five, Harry lifts an eyebrow, but doesn't leave him hanging. 

"It's an abuse of power," Rathaway says.

"Is Jesse ready for lunch?" Harry asks, ignoring him. 

"Yep. We're in the cafeteria."

"After you."

Once the elevator doors close, Cisco waits a full beat before pressing himself to Harry's chest. 

"Are there cameras in here? Because that was a totally dope abuse of power and I really want to kiss you."

Harry doesn't answer the question, but he does cradle Cisco's face in his hands and kiss him open mouthed. Cisco pulls away with a smile. 

"You really are a terrible boss though."

Harry laughs at that, gentle and loose. He probably doesn't laugh like that with Rathaway. Cisco feels calmer. 

"If only there were some other brilliant engineers I could hire. Then I wouldn't have to spend so much time with people bitchier than me. I might become a whole other person. Kinder. Gentler. Maybe I would even start a charity."

"Or saving kittens from trees," Cisco says, rolling his eyes.

He ignores Harry's implications outright. They've talked about this. Cisco doesn't have the means or the desire to finish his degree. It's not feasible, it's not practical, it's not  _meant to be_. Cisco has accepted the reality of his life and he's fine with it. Some people achieve their dreams. Some people have to dream smaller. He knows which category he falls in.

"I'm just - "

"We're gonna be there in a second."

"Cisco."

"If you say another word, you're not getting any farther than first base tonight." Harry clenches his jaw, but doesn't speak. 

The elevator dings. Cisco exits first, all the glee having drained from him. They spend lunch avoiding each other's gazes. 

-

They need to stop. Cisco recognizes it even as he tries to distract himself with personal projects and Harry's mouth, Harry's hands.

Somehow Harry has broken his own rules and crossed the wires between amazing sex and having a say in Cisco's life. Between the two of them, Cisco hadn't expected it to be Harry that let his lust addled lizard brain confuse their relationship. He doesn't imagine Harry is in love with him - he's a Lifetime movie, not a summer romcom - but Harry has managed to forget that their Facebook status is boss and hook-up. Nothing extra, nothing in between. 

Harry keeps pushing Central City College, but that isn't all. When Cisco finishes fitting his drones with both missile and laser firing capabilities, Harry doesn't shut up about Cisco patenting the designs until Cisco does it - makes Harry do it, actually, but still. That only prompts Harry to pester Cisco into contracting the drones with the military base, but Cisco swears he'll never suck Harry's dick again if he doesn't drop it. The idea of something he created being used as a weapon or in connection to combat makes his stomach cold. 

It's not the only line Harry barrels over. He starts asking about Cisco's parents, about the rest of his family. He talks about what Jesse wants to do for her birthday and asks what Cisco usually does for his. As if they're  _friends_. As if they're  _lovers_. 

Cisco is going to stop. He just needs to find the right time. 

-

The next Saturday, Barry invites him out for karaoke. He’s in the middle of repairing one of the drones he and Jesse flew into a tree. He drops the project, tells Harry he’s going out and spending the night at home. Harry doesn't tell him not to go, but Cisco can see the words on his tongue.

“I really needed this,” Cisco says, downing another shot. “How come you didn’t tell me I was being a shitty friend?” 

“You haven’t been,” Caitlin assures him. She’s sans Julian tonight, like Barry is sans Iris. It’s the original Musketeers. Cisco has missed it. Then, Caitlin adds, “We get what it’s like when you start a new relationship. Trust us.”

Cisco’s eyes widen. Caitlin's eyes match his.

"Um. I mean. What relationship? I don't think you're in a relationship because why would I think that?" She takes three huge gulps from her martini glass.

It's a terrible cover, but it's not her fault. Caitlin doesn't lie often, so she's no good at it. Cisco adores that about her.

He’s going to ask how she uncovered his deep dark secret, but then Barry takes a suspicious slurp of his drink. Cisco glares. “Traitor,” he says, punching Barry’s arm. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.” 

“He didn’t,” Caitlin assures him. “Iris did.”

Cisco punches Barry’s arm again. “Ow. Hey. It’s not my fault. Iris _made_ me tell her.”

“Can’t a guy have any secrets around here?”

“No,” Barry says, shrugging.  

"I haven’t heard the getting together story," Caitlin says. "And now that the cat's out of the bag, you can tell me. Please tell me the getting together story.”

Cisco shakes his head. “There’s no getting together story. The thing between me and Harry is purely carnal.”

“Oh please. The sooner you admit that you want to become Mr. Harry Wells, the sooner we can get to planning your wedding. I’ve always pictured you as a fall bride,” Barry says wistfully.

“I’m serious,” Cisco insists, irritation rising. “Now can we drop it? It’s not a big deal and I – never mind. Whose going up first? I’ll sign us in.” 

“You what?” Barry prods.

Cisco glares at the ceiling. “I came out because I would like one night of my life to _not_ be about Harry Wells. Now who am I signing up and for what? You guys want to do _Summer Lovin_ ’?” 

“I know that tone. Cisco. You’re not going to break up with him, are you?” Caitlin’s eyes are Bambi wide over her drink.

“You can’t break up with him. He’s the actual best relationship you’ve had in the history of your life." 

“For the last time, it’s not a _relationship_. Harry is my boss that I occasionally have sex with. If I want to put the kibosh on the sexy parts, that’s my decision. End of story.” 

Cisco’s fingers are digging into his beer bottle. Goosebumps are rising on his skin. The bar is too hot. He doesn’t understand why Caitlin and Barry won’t let this go, let this be. He didn’t invite them into his relationship – his _agreement_ – with Harry for a reason.

Barry is shaking his head, eyes Snapchat shiny and sad. “Why are you doing this, man?” 

“Doing _what_?” 

Caitlin gathers one of Cisco’s hands in her own. Her thumb rubs over his knuckles and it does nothing to calm him. “What Barry is trying to say is that we love you. Very much. And you’re smart and good and handsome. And you deserve every kind of happiness.”

“And you need to stop ruining every chance you get at it.”

Caitlin nods vigorously at that. Cisco frowns and pulls his hands away.

“I don’t ruin my chances of happiness. I am my own biggest proponent to finding happiness.”

“You are your own saboteur,” Caitlin says. She takes another quick drink. “It’s very _Top Model_ of you.”

“But we’re rooting for you. We’re all rooting for you! You just make it hard. Sometimes." Barry's face takes on the baby soft gaze that normally makes Cisco's heart seize, but tonight, it makes Cisco's heart pound against his chest. 

Cisco glares. “Listen, Tyra, I do not self-sabotage.”

“Dude. I know you don’t like to talk about this, but we’ve watched you turn down more good jobs and good people in the past two years than we’ve watched _Wrath of Kahn_.”

Bristling, Cisco takes another drink. These are his best friends, his family. They’ve watched him struggle to stitch his life back together until his fingers tremble and bleed. They know what he’s been through. How is it they don’t understand?

“What are you talking about?” 

“I did get you an interview at Mercury Labs when you left – when you came back from school. That you never went to," Caitlin says.

“They wouldn’t have hired me – ”

“And you went out of your way to date Lisa Snart, even when you knew her reputation,” Barry adds.

“Hey, I broke up with her after she and her brother stole my car.”

“You purposefully blew it with Kendra and Cynthia because you let yourself be preoccupied with Dr. Wells, and now that it turns out he isn’t as unavailable as you thought he was going to be, you want to run away.” Caitlin illustrates her point by running her fingers across the table. 

“We just hate watching you do this to yourself, man,” Barry says. “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault. You’re allowed to be happy about something that isn’t us and isn’t your family. Dante would want – ” 

His brother's name is a sharp point; it shatters the veneer that's been increasingly thinning, and Cisco's grief steams through the broken cracks.

“Don’t.” Cisco’s throat feels wet and hot. He closes his eyes. “Don’t say his name.” 

“He’d want you to be happy,” Caitlin says, feather soft, and that’s the last straw.

Cisco leaves without another word. He drives home, eyes burning, teeth aching as he grinds his anger back into itself. How could they accuse him of running from happiness when he’s been running himself into the ground to grasp it? How could they talk to him like they don’t even know him?

_Dante would want –_

To be alive. Cisco presses hard on the gas. That’s what Dante would want. That's what his entire family would want. If they could trade every empty thing in Cisco’s life for Dante’s laugh and music, for Dante’s big heart, they would. Cisco would.

_Dante would –_

Cisco yanks the wheel, turning from the road that will lead to his neighborhood to the exit that will take him straight to the Wells.

-

It’s after 12 when Cisco gets to the Wells house. Jesse is asleep. Harry is surrounded by papers on the couch. He barely looks up as Cisco comes in through the door, invades his space. He murmurs something but Cisco can’t comprehend it over the blood rushing his ears.

Cisco settles in Harry’s lap, ignoring Harry's irritated noises and curses, and curls his fingers into Harry’s hair. He swallows Harry’s protests, bites them away with blunt teeth, yanks on the soft hair in his hands, forces Harry to just _shut up_. Cisco is tired of talking.

Harry manages to twist his face away, but it’s fine. Cisco just attacks his neck and rocks his ass over the growing bulge in Harry’s jeans. 

“Fuck me,” Cisco breathes into Harry’s ear.

“I’m working,” Harry says but his thumbs are digging into Cisco’s hips. “Later.”

“ _Now_.” 

“Wait.” Harry pants as Cisco works his hands between them to undo his jeans. Harry grabs both of his wrists, holding Cisco steady. The move sends a violent wave of lust through his gut. “Stop, Ramon. What are you doing?”

Cisco tries to wriggle from Harry’s grip, but Harry’s fingers are too firm and solid. It makes Cisco feel tethered. Anchored into the earth with no risk of floating into that space that’s sharp with pain. 

When Harry manages to get both of Cisco’s hands pinned behind his back, Cisco grins. He moves his hips over Harry, drawing a groan from both of them.

“Didn’t know you were into this.” Cisco nips at Harry’s lips again. 

Harry twists away. “Are you drunk?”

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought, hey, you know what would be a good way to chase away the midnight blues? Harry’s dick.” 

When he leans in for another kiss, Harry responds. He holds Cisco steady by the grip on his wrists and lets Cisco lick into his mouth, suck his tongue, kiss him until they’re both breathless. 

“Fuck me,” Cisco repeats, less biting, more desperate.

Harry releases his wrists. “Fine. If you’re so hard up for it. Let’s get to bed.”

“Here. Can’t wait. Need you in me.” Cisco sucks at Harry’s pulse. 

“Wasn’t it you who said I needed lube if I wanted to, as you so eloquently put it, bust it open?”

“I don’t care – ” 

“Ramon.” Harry holds his face in his hands, stares at him without any pretense or façade. Cisco feels inside out, naked. Harry must be able to see all of him. “Cisco. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cisco lets Harry lead him to the bedroom, lets Harry lay him on his back and finger him open far too slowly for Cisco’s need to take. He squirms on Harry’s fingers. His chest feels as wide and raw as the rest of his body, taken apart by Harry’s clever hands. 

He keeps snapping at Harry, telling him to hurry, that he’s ready, taunting him to come on and take it already. Harry just tells him to shut up and twists to rub that sweet spot in ways that make Cisco choke on his words. 

Harry fucks him deep and slow and sweet. Every movement punches the breath out of him. The drag of Harry’s cock inside of him feels new somehow. Harry is so soft it makes Cisco’s teeth ache. It’s the worst and best thing Cisco has ever felt. 

Cisco tries to bite, drag his nails down Harry’s back, wrap his legs around Harry’s waist and guide him into a pace that’s faster and more brutal. He just wants Harry to fuck out the dull nails scraping across his insides. Instead Harry pins his wrists beside his head and kisses him. Keeps kissing him, doesn’t break contact, even when Cisco feels warmth biting his eyes. 

Coming is almost an afterthought. They’re both quiet when it happens. Harry stays inside of him, hovering, hands still holding Cisco steady and mouth still pressed to Cisco’s own.

When Harry pulls away, Cisco feels boneless. Empty. He doesn't know if Harry came. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks after several moments.

Cisco peers through the darkness. He can vaguely make out Harry’s shape in the shadows. He can feel the heat of Harry lying on his side. 

“Talk about what?” Harry scoffs. Cisco’s stomach muscles jump as Harry’s palm slides over his skin. Harry’s hand settles over his belly button. “You wanna cuddle, Harry?”

“Sour doesn’t suit you.” Harry moves his hand up Cisco’s ribs. His touch is gentle. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Cisco considers it. He could tell Harry that his friends think he’s some sort of emotional masochist. That his family is more distant than ever and he can’t bring himself to even attempt to bridge the gap anymore. That he’s never had anyone love him as anything other than an annoying little brother and now he has Jesse, he has Harry, and he’s terrified of losing them like he’s lost so many other things.

He could tell Harry that before this job, before Jesse, before _him_ , if some miracle or dark matter explosion had allowed it, he would’ve traded his own life to get Dante back. But now. Now.

“I’m fine,” Cisco tells him. “I should probably – ”

“You wanted me to hurt you.” Harry sounds quiet, far away. His hand rests over Cisco’s heart. 

“I would’ve been okay.” Cisco wants to turn into Harry, force his way into the warmth of Harry’s side, make Harry pet his hair until he falls asleep. He turns to face the wall instead. “I had a fight with Caitlin and Barry. It’s not a big deal.”

“This fight. Was it about me?” 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Harry hums and curls around him, catlike. “That’s debatable.”

“Are we seriously spooning right now?”

“If you’re not going to use that mouth to talk to me or get me ready to fuck you again, then shut it.”

Cisco sighs. He thinks about pushing Harry’s arm off of him, sliding away to go home or at least slink into the guest bedroom. But Harry is warm and alive behind him, and in the too quiet shadows, the world looks space dark and cold. 

“They kind of figured out we’re banging,” Cisco admits, looking at the red numbers on the alarm. “And they don’t really support our purely carnal relationship.”

“Purely carnal,” Harry parrots dryly. “Is that what our relationship is?”

Cisco’s heart stutters. “Well, I mean. You’re also my boss.”

Cisco waits, balancing on the thin side of the razor, not breathing. He doesn’t know if he wants Harry to respond or how.

“Get some rest,” is all Harry says when he finally speaks.

Cisco bites his lip. He’s not disappointed. He’s relieved.

He waits until Harry’s breathing evens, then slips out of bed.

-

Neither of Cisco’s parents talk to him at breakfast the next morning. He pretends he spent the night at home, that he hadn’t crawled in around 3 in the morning, and that his bed doesn’t feel like a foreign, choppy ocean compared to Harry’s mattress.

He makes himself stay. It’s Sunday, so he drives his mom and dad to church. He can feel the congregation looking at him from the corner of his eye, can hear their whispers and judgement. His mother sits straight in the pew and clutches at her bible. When the choir sings, he watches her, sees the memory of Dante performing at the piano in her eyes.

Confession was never anything he found comfort in, but he considers slipping into the booth before they leave.

He doesn’t.

-

Cisco doesn’t answer calls from Caitlin, Barry, or Iris. He needs _space_. He’s allowed to need space. When Joe gives him disapproving looks, he pretends not to notice. When Joe tries to tell him how much Iris has missed their Sex and the City brunches or that Barry and Wally refuse to see the new Star Wars without him, Cisco puts his hands over his ears.

He feels most normal with Jesse. They sketch schematics for a new project. They bake brownies. She finally lets him heart the first bridge of her song.

He feels least normal with Harry. Some tectonic plate between them has shifted, leaving Cisco stranded on a continent that’s entirely unsteady. Cisco does his best to rebuild a bridge between them; he flirts and bickers and sucks Tootsie pops in the workshop. He wears his hair up to entice Harry to tug it down. No matter what he does, though, no matter how hard or nasty his touches are, Harry handles him with gloves. 

Everything is slow kisses and soft touches. Harry keeps pinning him down, forcing him to be still and quiet and take all the gentle pleasure Harry showers over him. The one time he gets Harry to take him from behind, they’re lying side by side, and Harry threads their fingers together over Cisco’s hip. Afterwards, he licks Cisco out until Cisco is a shivering, quivering mess, then sucks him off, cotton soft. 

Cisco feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. Now is the right time Cisco has been anticipating. 

But every time he wants to tell Harry that he’s no longer going to be spending his nights at the Well’s house in Harry’s bed, Harry kisses the dimple in his chin, and Cisco’s words wither on his tongue.

-

Eight days since the last time he spoke with his parents or his friends, Cisco is grading Jesse’s homework at the kitchen table. Harry takes a seat across from him.

“Joe invited us to family game night.”

Cisco told Joe to leave it alone, let him get to a calmer place on his own time. He sighs. “Pass.”

“That’s my line.” When Cisco doesn’t say anything else, Harry puts his hands behind his head and watches him grade. “How’s Jesse Quick’s essay?” 

“Genius, as always. Will you please go away? I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Do I make it hard for you to concentrate, Ramon?”

Cisco groans and let’s his head dip back. “Is there something you needed?”

“I told Joe we’d go.”

The world stops spinning and reverses. It must be another Dr. Harrison Wells in front of him, because the Harry he knows would never agree to something like that. At least not without bribery.

“That's not up to you,” Cisco says.

“You haven’t heard my proposal yet. I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay.” Cisco closes the laptop with a sharp click that nearly satisfies his irritation. “Lay it on me.”

“We go to their little game night. I bring wine. We team up and demolish everyone else so they see we’re more than purely carnal. You all hug and cry and do whatever is your little group of penguins do. Then we come home and I fuck you like you’ve been begging me to.”

Cisco sucks in a breath so sharp his tongue stings. He swallows and tastes blood.

“Sound like a plan?”

Cisco laughs, mirthless and dry. Harry’s self-satisfied smirk flattens into a frown. “Oh yeah. Except for the part where we lie to all my friends and I forgive them without so much as an apology. Sounds perf.”

“Whose lying?” Harry puts his palms on the table, sliding forward. “Cisco. Let’s not do this. I know you’re smart enough not to need a big gesture or skywriting or some dramatic soliloquy about feelings. Stop making everything so complicated.” 

In disbelief that even Harry can be so egotistically obtuse, Cisco scoffs. “I’m sorry, is this you being nice?”

“No. This is me being tired of you over dramatizing. I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to come to terms with your feelings, and even you’re not that emotionally stunted.”

“Me?” Cisco pokes his own chest, feeling hysteria rise. “Did we enter some sort of alternate dimension in the past five minutes? You’re the emotionally stunted one, you cranky dick.” 

“As you've pointed out, I do enjoy being a dick, but I'm spectacularly in touch with my emotions."

"Really. Care to use a textual example to support your theory?"

"I'm not the one still pretending this is purely physical because I don't think I deserve anything more,” Harry spits. His jaw is practically seizing and his nostrils flare. He’s an angry bull and Cisco feels china thin. “You jack wagon.”

Cisco swallows all the shrapnel Harry just unleashed. He feels shaken. His knees actually buckle beneath him when he tries to stand. “I’m going to finish grading Jesse’s essay in my workshop,” he says, hating the tremble in his voice. 

“Cisco."

When Harry reaches for his arm, Cisco side steps, clutching the laptop to his chest. "Don't touch me," Cisco says, less forceful than he intends. "Don't touch me anymore."

-

They don’t have The Talk. They don’t need to.

Cisco doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes, doesn’t let their fingers brush in the workshop, doesn’t snap back with references or cheek. Harry doesn't try to touch him.

It's so much simpler than Cisco thought it would be. He should've ended it sooner. There's no fight and nothing is thrown and they don't have dramatic, hair yanking, bruise blooming breakup sex.

They just fall apart.

-

As it turns out, not sleeping with your boss is spectacularly more awkward than sleeping with him.

It’s _weird_. There is so much intimacy between them that has nothing to do with sex and it’s a breathing, squirming thing that looms. Cisco hopes not feeding it will allow it to wither. 

It doesn’t.

He tells Jesse that his parents need him at home more. It’s cheap and makes his stomach sick, but he doesn’t know how else to explain his absence at dinners and movie nights, why he doesn’t help Harry tuck her in anymore. She doesn’t fully buy it, but she doesn’t ask him any questions.

Joe doesn’t, either. He _hovers_ , though; always close, always watching, like he’s waiting for the second Cisco crumbles so he can be there immediately to pick up the pieces.

His parents actually comment when they realize he’s spending all of his nights at home. He tells them that since the school year is ending, Jesse’s focused on finals and doesn’t need him around as much. It doesn’t make sense, but they’re happy enough to believe it. Their quiet dinners feel hollow and foreign.

Cisco still hasn’t spoken to Barry, Iris, or Caitlin. Each time his fingers hover over their number, each time he sees a dog in the street and wants to text them a picture or is trapped with boredom alone in his room, he thinks of their faces when he tells him the physical part of his and Harry’s relationship is over. Not that he owes them that information, but they would still pull it out of him. Iris can be scary when she thinks he’s holding secrets. 

He’s absolutely certain they would try to change his mind, push him back into Harry’s arms. His legs are still shaky beneath him. If they prodded, he might fall. If he falls, Harry might catch him. It would be a layer of snow on ice, slippery and easy to not to see. Dangerous.

All he needs is time to disentangle the threads he and Harry have crossed. Things will settle. The dust will be swept away. Harry will go back to being Dr. Wells, and Cisco will go back to being just Cisco.

He won't have to answer to Harry's incessant nagging that he should be doing more with his life. Once he can look at his friends without grief rushing through his pores, he'll tell them he isn't hooking up with Harry anymore. Everything will go back to normal, eventually.

-

Cisco takes his mother to the grocery store for the first time in what he realizes must be months. The shame he feels doesn't quite make his skin bubble, but it's a near thing. His muscles slippery over his bones with the weight of it. 

He can't just be Dante. The good son, the attentive son, the son that's there and that cares. He should be Dante -  _it should've been him, not Dante_ \- but he just can't be. There's something family shaped missing from his brain, preventing him from being what they need and deserve.

Over the next few days, he makes a Herculean effort to apologize for the past few months. He cooks next to his mother and takes his father for walks through the neighborhood. They seem happy that to see him come home each night. 

"Will you work there this summer?" his father asks one weekend as they sit outside. Cisco set up cards and a folding table in their driveway, because he knows his father enjoys the spring weather more than the stuffy air of the house. His parents are more positive about the job now that he spends less time there.

"Yeah," he says. "Jesse has about a million projects she wants to build. A third of which are actually possible."

His father's smile stretches, slow and more somber than it did years before, but it's a smile that loosens the dredges in Cisco's chest all the same. "She sounds so much like you," he says. "Babysitting - tutoring her has been good for you after all."

Cisco hesitates. It's become more of a balm than a burn to invoke Dante's memory, but that's outside of their childhood home. He isn't sure the weight of this talisman will be as light here. "She reminds me of Dante."

"He would be proud."

The chair beneath Cisco shakes. He thinks the world shakes, an earthquake or the ground simply caving under the sentiment.

"He always said, at least Francisco follows his dreams." His father nods, mostly to himself. "It led you to someone like him."

Throat tight, Cisco nods. 

-

Jesse’s birthday falls two weeks before the end of school. When Cisco and Harry still spoke, other than trading perfunctory greetings and equations, Cisco suggested holding it at S.T.A.R. labs. They were going to build Jesse’s present together.

Now that Cisco and Harry are strictly co-workers, Cisco isn’t as deeply involved in planning Jesse’s party. He hears Hewitt on the phone with caterers and Harry screaming at – everyone, it seems. More so than Cisco remembers. He must've just stopped paying attention.

Cisco wonders if he can get away with quietly not showing up, until Jesse asks him point blank if he’s coming. They’re sitting outside, Cisco quickly grading her Chem homework while she strums her guitar. 

“Of course I’m coming, Quick,” Cisco tells her.

She drums her fingers against the guitar. “I invited Wally.”

The adorableness. Cisco can’t handle it. “Did he tell you what he’s getting you?”

“He asked if you were still mad at him.”

Cisco looks up. His brows furrow when she looks at him. “What? Why would he think I’m mad at him?”

“Apparently our family nights aren’t the only one’s you’ve been bailing out on.”

His face heats, shamed. “Jesse. I – my family, my real family, they need me.”

“Your fake families do too," Jesse says, more bitter than she should ever have to be. He put that there.

“Jesse,” he says, feeling helplessly chastised. He doesn’t know how to comfort her. 

“I know you and my dad are like...separated right now, or whatever, and I understand. I know who he is."

"We're not - " Cisco tries, then falters. "We agreed that our relationship - my relationship, with both of you - was getting overly comfortable. It wasn't...professional."

Jesse looks entirely unimpressed and unconvinced. "Like I said. Separated. And hey, that means two Christmas's for me." Despite himself, Cisco laughs. Her own hard edge seems to soften. "Why are you fighting with the West's, though?"

They're not fighting, but Cisco doesn't know how to articulate what they are doing. He needs to increase the distance between himself and pain. He needs to seal himself tight and safe. His friends needle between the unsealed spaces, trying to jostle his hurt into the open, expose it to air in attempt at healing. The only way to stop them is to allow all the pain to settle again.

Jesse has the IQ of an adult but she still has the heart of a child. Even if he could find the words, he doesn’t know that she would understand.

“With great family, comes great responsibility. Sometimes you – sometimes I just can’t be everything everyone needs. I have to prioritize.”

“We don’t need you to be anything other than you, though.” Cisco smiles. He wants to squeeze her, twirl her around, melt the serious frown of her face into the bright smile that should be ever present. “We don’t need you to take care of us. We just want you around.”

“Tell that to your dad next time he has to put in his own cuff links." 

That cracks a grin. Cisco offers to make her dinner after they finish her homework. Harry’s already promised to take her out. He does tell her he’ll to the West’s, to Wally.

-

This isn't the first time Cisco has gone emotionally AWOL on his group of adopted family. After Dante died, he didn't speak to anyone who wasn't blood related for a month. After he started dating Lisa. After he broke up with her. 

He knows, objectively, that Jesse is right. They don't need anything from him, other than him to be around. That's what they want. 

So he does talk to Wally, but he talks to Caitlin first. She’s had to put up with him the longest; he figures he owes her the biggest apology for being a douche.

He shows up at her apartment with turtle brownies and a promise to watch one full season of _Grey’s Anatomy_ with her. She eats two brownies before she hits his shoulder, making him promise to never go away again, no matter how uncomfortable with Feelings he gets. He promises to do his best.

Barry is easier. He doesn’t require dessert and doesn’t engage in any hitting. He just gathers Cisco into a big bro hug. Iris touches his shoulder and tell him if he ever makes her husband that emo again, she’s going to key his car.

Joe and Wally accept pizza, but Wally is a little more guarded, because he doesn’t really understand why Cisco hasn’t been around. He gets over it when Cisco promises to take him shopping for Jesse’s birthday present.

- 

“Jesse said Wally finally RSVP’d.”

Cisco is cutting crust off of Jesse’s PB & J sandwiches – Hewitt always forgets – and nearly drops the butter knife when Harry comes into the kitchen. He clutches his t-shirt above his heart.

“ _Seriously_ going to get you a bell.”

It’s been weeks since they’ve been alone together. Cisco has been doing so much apologizing lately, he feels like he should apologize for the awkward air between them. But that would only inject another layer of tension.

“Sorry,” Harry says, clearly not sorry. Cisco thinks he could patent that. “I suppose I should thank you for clearing up whatever issue was keeping him from Jesse’s party. She was inconsolable.”

“You’re welcome.”

Harry nods, a signal that their business interaction has been completed. Except he’s not walking away.

“She also said you had a little heart to heart.”

Embarrassed, Cisco doesn’t meet Harry’s gaze as he finishes cutting the crusts and rinses the knife in the sink. He hears Harry’s heavy sigh over the water then the rustle of Harry’s clothes as he moves closer. There’s a promise of heat behind him, heavy enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. When Harry speaks, he closes his eyes.

“If you let me say this without running away, I won't bring it up again."

Cisco thinks of his promise to Caitlin. He wonders Harry Shaped Feelings were included when he said he would try not to repress them. Without turning around, Cisco nods. 

"Okay."

"I know what it’s like to live with ghosts,” Harry says. “Take it from someone who’s done it a lot longer than you have. Surviving doesn’t honor anyone’s memory. If you think it’s up to you to make up for the loss, you have to live.”

None of the familiar anger or irritation wells in Cisco’s chest. He doesn’t have to shore his emotions when he turns to face Harry. He does clamp jaws of life around the urge to brush his mouth over Harry’s or slide Harry’s hands around his hips, coax that so genuine it aches look from Harry’s face. 

“I know I can’t make up for it, though.” Cisco doesn’t know why it’s so easy, so suddenly simple, to look into Harry’s eyes and breathe life into undead things weighing heavy in his limbs. “I know exactly what Dante would’ve done with his life and what he would’ve expected from me, and I’m never going to live up to it. I can’t.”

Harry releases a tense breath. Cisco is familiar enough with Harry's body to recognize the urge to touch. Harry doesn't. “You don’t know. You can’t see the future or might have been’s.”

“No, I guess I can’t. That’d be pretty dope though, right?”

“It does get better, Cisco.” Harry hesitates. He lifts his hand, moving slowly, giving Cisco plenty of time to slide away. Cisco stands still and lets Harry’s palm settle on his shoulder. “I promise.”

Cisco stares a hard point into Harry’s chest. He rests his hand over Harry’s, feeling the warmth and solidness. He’s missed Harry’s touch so much his knees feel weak under the simple weight of it.

“Okay,” Cisco says again. 

Harry squeezes his shoulder, gentle, then slides his touch away. He doesn’t back away though. Cisco tries to muster the energy to push him, to move past him, to leave.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?”

He considers saying yes. But he can't yet. “I have a family dinner thing. My other family. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Harry agrees. 

-

Cisco doesn't immediately come back to the Wells. Not the way he did before. He doesn't start spending his nights there again or join them regularly for dinner. After much pouting from Jesse, he does come back for Family Movie Friday, if only to spare her from sitting through  _Ghostbusters_ for the fifth week in a row. Cisco loves the franchise as much as the next nerd, but really? 

He and Harry develop something tenuous. Cisco doesn't know what to call it. They don't touch, even accidentally, and although Cisco feels the familiar pangs of need to lick Harry's mouth, they don't kiss. Most of their conversations involve perfunctory greetings and discussions about Jesse's birthday. Cisco keeps waiting for Harry to pin him against something or boss him into the bedroom, but Harry keeps his distance. 

Harry watches him the way he did Before Hooking Up. Cisco can't convince himself Harry's hunger is purely directed at his skin; he knows it gnaws deeper, but he isn't sure where it ends. If it's as bottomless and yawning as the thing scratching Cisco's throat.

It takes Cisco time, but when he finally spreads it out on the clear formula board in his brain, he works the equation out. They want the same thing, and it's nothing more complicated than each other.

-

"Do you think I should ask Harry to be my boyfriend?"

Cisco gives Joe credit for not driving the car directly into a ditch. Probably shouldn't have broached that particular subject while Joe was driving. 

Joe does pull over. A few cars honk past them; one obnoxiously large truck driver flips them off. Cisco returns the gesture. 

"Are you trying to kill me? Or make me kill you? Iris said you were on the path of becoming an emotionally responsible adult. Getting me to wreck isn't emotionally responsible, Cisco."

"Sorry. I was just. I don't have anyone else to ask."

"I disagree. You have three people who are not me that are weirdly invested in your relationship with Harrison Wells."

Cisco watches vehicles rush past them. It's six o'clock and they waited until the last minute to wrap Jesse's presents, only to realize they had no wrapping paper. Joe suggested plastic grocery bags, but both Wally and Cisco rejected that. Where's your sense of style, they asked.

"Despite what everyone seems to think, I do want to be happy. And I don't want to be alone."

Joe eyes him evenly. He taps his fingers on the wheel, but there's none of the nervous buzz Cisco feels jumping in his own hands. Whether it comes from his years as a cop or a father or a private security detail, or maybe just living his entire life as a tower of a man, Joe breathes confidence. The assured air he carries has lent itself to Cisco's sagging spine more than once. He only wanted to tap into that sturdiness again. 

"You're not alone," Joe says. 

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Joe looks out the same window, nodding. "I do."

"If I ask them, they're just going to tell me to do it. Or propose to him. But they don't know him as well. They haven't seen us together."

Joe's grin breaks wide and easy. "Do you really need me to tell you if Harrison has a crush on you or not?" He shakes his head. "I may not be a genius like him, or you, or even Jesse, but I know you guys have been more than co-workers for months. If you don't know how he feels already, you're not paying attention."

"I know how he feels," Cisco says, trying to ignore the realization that Joe has known he's been banging their boss. He should've given Joe more credit. The man was a detective for years, after all. "I just don't know if I can trust my own judgement. Apparently, I make poor life decisions."

Joe laughs.

"Do you think we're good together? Do you think I make him - do you think we make each other happy?"

"I think Harrison is too old for you," Joe says. "You've got your whole life ahead of you, Cisco. But. You make Harrison Wells as happy as anyone who isn't his daughter could make him. I think the real questions is - does he make you happy?"

Cisco thinks about the workshop. He thinks about Harry drawing up the patent for his drones, about Harry listening when Cisco said no to selling them and when Cisco said not to touch him. He thinks about how blue Harry's eyes get when Cisco sasses him or brings their mouths together. He thinks about Harry, Harry, Harry.

"Do I have to take him on a date?"

"Make him take you," Joe says, starting the car up again. "To the fanciest place in town."

Cisco considers it. He could do that. Of course, if he did, he'd have to put out. He could do that too. 

-

Cisco's doesn't. Put out on the first date, anyway. While he and Harry are making popcorn and Jesse is putting in _The Hobbit_ , he does tell Harry that if he's up for a new kind of experiment, one that would test if they could actually be good together, Harry can take him to dinner.

"Dinner." Harry says the word like he's never said it before. 

Cisco shifts, self-assurance slipping into the toes of his shoes. He was sure - he put everything on the line because he was  _sure_ -

"You mean a date."

Cisco wants the kitchen to swallow him whole. Harry's lips are tugging upwards, but he's not laughing  _at_ Cisco. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" Cisco blinks. Nods to himself. "Okay."

Just like that. It's a date.

-

So the date is at Harry’s own house, but Cisco doesn’t have to cook the meal and Jesse isn’t there. There’s wine and candles. Cisco doesn’t know if Harry is trying to seduce him or _woo_ him. His clothes feel too tight when Harry pulls out his chair.

Date!Harry is miles away from hook-up!Harry. Cisco isn’t into it. It’s uncomfortable and not genuine and every word feels forced. His heart sinks as he thinks this, too, will be another failed experiment. He and Harry aren't meant to have orgasms as integral part of their relationships.

Luckily, Harry is just as uncomfortable. He blows out the candles and drags Harry to the couch to watch _Godzilla_ over a few beers.

Cisco spends a lot of the night digging his fingers into the arm rest, keeping himself off of Harry’s lap. Caitlin talked to him for an hour and a half about the importance of approaching relationships in slow, healthy ways. But it’s more difficult to go slow when he already knows the way Harry’s dick feels burning inside of him. When he knows that Harry knows exactly where and how he likes to be touched, kissed, taken.

“Okay,” Harry says half-way through. “You have to stop thinking so loud, Cisco.”

Cisco elbows him. His annoyance melts when Harry, who's kept more than a respectable distance between them the entire night, scoots closer and wraps an arm around him.

“How unhealthy do you think it would be if we just ignored the rest of the movie and made out?” Cisco asks.

Harry answers by cradling his jaw and pressing their mouths together. It’s not chaste by any means, but without the promise or pressure of anything more, it’s not insistent. Harry kisses him slow and lazy, like summer unfurling, and Cisco’s toes curl in his Converse. They spend what feels like hours reminding each other what they feel and taste like.

Their next date, Harry orders pizza. Cisco devours three slices while Harry rubs his feet. It’s _amazing_ and he can’t believe he never bartered sex for massages of his own before. He spends most of the date with his head bowed over the arm rest, making non-sexual noises that he knows come out too low and stretch too long for Harry not to think of how Cisco sounds bouncing on his dick. 

Harry ends up stretched over him, carefully keeping their hips from rocking together as he sucks all those groans from Cisco’s mouth. 

It’s nice. It’s languid and thrilling even though Cisco can see with 3D, technicolor clarity exactly where they’re going. Black doom clouds aren’t hanging over Cisco’s head this time. Fear still pulls insistent at his belly sometimes. Flashbacks of all the relationships and potential relationships he’s fucked up flare like warnings on several late nights.

But he’s happy with Harry, when he allows himself to be. He keeps their time balanced with his parents and his other pseudo-family, and he's happy then, too. He can do this. 

Dante would want him to.

-

Cisco gets the call at Jesse’s party.

There’s a live band, which Cisco thought was a bad idea, and five caterers, which Cisco thought was a brilliant idea. He has no idea how many kids are there, but there are at least twice as many adults, from parents to business people Jesse’s grandparents made sure were there. Harry keeps glaring at them. Whenever their gazes meet, Harry throws up his hands.

Jesse only has eyes for Wally. Barry keeps taking pictures of them while Joe and Iris hang back, eating free food. Cisco watches just as stupidly adoring as Barry while Caitlin regales him with tales of her research. 

They try to keep clear of the Morgan’s. Cisco can feel them silently judging him all afternoon and resists the urge to stick his tongue out at them.

When Julian arrives, Cisco lets Caitlin go to greet him. Harry somehow, immediately, materializes at his side to take her place.

“I hate so much of what is happening right now,” Harry says, flat and annoyed.

Cisco laughs. “Good thing this isn't about you then, right?”

“Don’t make eye contact, but that’s Dr. Martin Stein. He keeps trying to convince me to invest in his research.”

“I read an article about him,” Cisco says. He thumbs through his mental file. “Isn’t his work in transmutation? Hasn’t he watched _Full Metal Alchemist_? That never ends well.”

“If he comes over here, pretend there’s some sort of emergency for which I am your only hope.” 

“You got it, Obi Won.”

They watch the party unfold in comfortable silence. Stein gets sucked into conversation with some people Cisco hasn’t seen before, leaving Harry safe. Waiters come by with food and punch. It feels easy.

“You know,” Harry says, leaning close and pitching his voice low. Cisco swallows. “If our relationship was still purely carnal, this would be the point I would make up some project in my office to invite you to see.” 

“You’d fake a scientific innovation for seduction?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m not above it.”

Cisco is going to quip that’s he not that easy, that he’s offended on the behalf of engineering, but his phone rings. He doesn’t _want_ to answer it. He wants to sneak off with Harry and make out – just a _little_ , though, because they've only had two official dates, and he promised himself nothing under the clothes would happen until the third. But it’s his mother’s ring tone. He knows better than to ignore her.

“Please do not lose whatever evil thoughts you’re thinking,” Cisco says as he fishes his phone from his pocket. “I will be right back.”

He walks behind a column, securing as much privacy as he can, before answering. “Mom?”

She doesn’t speak.

“Mom?”

“Francisco,” she says slowly. Her voice is thick and wet. Cisco can hear her tears over the phone. “It’s your father.”

 -

It feels like the past repeating. A sharp film overlaying the present, all of the mistakes and pain lining up perfectly. The tone of his mother’s voice, her words. The panic squeezing his heart.

Years ago, he was across state lines, eating Twizzlers and discussing the multiverse theory with a group of upperclassmen in MIT’s student lounge. He missed the first two calls. When he finally picked up to his mother crying that Dante and his father had been hit by a truck, he had stopped breathing.

Everything had been shaking and unsteady from the time he heard the news to the time he finally landed back in Central City. He doesn’t remember the flight home or the cab ride to the hospital or even the nurse taking him to his father’s room.

Dante was already dead. Had died before he was back in the city. His mother, nearly catatonic in grief, had only been able to call him. She had been alone. She had watched his father be dragged to the brink and her favorite son die, all alone, because Cisco hadn’t been there.

Joe is the one who drives him to the hospital, Wally in the backseat. Everyone else caravans behind them. Cisco is thankful. His hands haven’t stopped trembling and he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to drive himself.

Cisco feels numb. If a pin was put through his leg, he doesn’t think he would notice it. Part of him is so sure his father is already gone his head is spinning, dizzy. He feels nauseous in the car, stomach knotting, blood sick. 

He wasn't there. His mother is hurt and his father is hurt and could be gone and he wasn't  _there_ , again. 

- 

His mother isn’t alone this time, thankfully. Two aunts, a few of his cousins, and his father’s closest brother are there, crowding the ER.

They regard Joe and Wally as outsiders. Cisco doesn’t feel their gazes warm too many degrees when they finally greet him. Uncomfortable, Joe and Wally leave to move the car from the emergency loading zone. Cisco, equally uncomfortable, goes to his mother’s side and wraps an arm around her. He doesn’t ask what happened or what the doctors have said. Instead, he holds her and promises everything will be OK.

Someone in a lab coat comes out a few minutes later. Joe still isn’t back. Cisco listens as the doctor explains his father had a mild heart attack and due to his general health is going to be kept for observation at least overnight, but she predicts a full recovery. She keeps using words like that - mild and minor and general and observation. She doesn't say he almost died, she doesn't accuse Cisco of almost killing him again, but Cisco hears it. He's sure the rest of his family hear it, too.

Cisco and his family head to the third floor and settle in the waiting room there. He sits next to his mother, reaches to hold her hand. She doesn't hold it back.

He forces himself to focus on the fact that his father survived. He survived the first time, he'll survive this time. And next time, Cisco will be there.  

It’s only a few minutes before the elevator doors ding open and Cisco’s surrogate family pours in. Joe emerges first, followed by the rest of the West-Allen brood, and Caitlin. Harry and Jesse come in the next elevator.

There are too many people. Cisco feels claustrophobic and he knows his family are stifled under the same constriction. They know Cisco has people - they've met Caitlin and Barry before - but their fear is too intimate to share with non-blood. 

"I'll ask them to leave," Cisco tells his mother.

She squeezes his hand. "You can go, Francisco."

There's no anger in her voice, only the exhaustion of near loss. It's the closest thing to a blessing Cisco thinks he's going to receive. He understands - he  _does_ \- but it doesn't lessen the sting of being allowed to run. It doesn't ease the guilt of wanting to. 

"I'll be right back," he assures her.

Cisco tries to tell them to leave. Jesse at least needs to back to her party, but she’s the most vocal about staying at his side. She insists she’ll just have another party. She’ll get extra presents. It’ll be totally awesome. 

It makes Cisco want to cry. Instead he bends on his knee and hugs her until she hits his shoulder, citing the need for oxygen. When he stands, Harry squeezes his shoulder.

Harry sends Joe to take the kids (which include Barry and Iris) for ice cream. He and Caitlin take the first shift of sitting with him, Caitlin at his left, his mother at his right, and Harry situated exactly in front of him. It's the least intrusive they're going to be. If he weren't so weak, he would make them go. He is, though, and he leans heavy on their support.  

-

Caitlin only leaves after Cisco physically forces her onto the elevator. Barry and Iris take her place, bringing coffee to the rest of his family while Joe takes Wally home.

The cafeteria is open, but there’s nothing edible. Jesse holds Cisco’s hand as they move through the line. Cisco feels like his guts are in a centrifuge of guilt. He looks at Jesse's small, soft hand, and he hates himself for being with her while his father's heart seized. He hates himself for holding onto her father like a crutch instead of giving him back to her.

“The jello looks…fine?” Jesse suggests.

Cisco wrinkles his nose. “They don’t have strawberry.”

“Take the lime. And the sandwiches. I’ll go ahead and pay.”

“Harry,” Cisco says, too exhausted to have this fight. They glare at each other, even and tired, but Harry goes longest without blinking. Cisco sighs. “Fine. Jesse, lets grab all the turkey and all the chicken salad.”

While Harry takes care of the bill, Cisco and Jesse gather the food.

“It makes him feel like he’s helping,” Jesse says as she loads Cisco’s arms. “When he can pay for stuff. He doesn’t like being helpless.”

“I know.”

“And he likes to be needed.”

“I know,” Cisco repeats, but he’s not sure if he did.

-

While Jesse doles out sandwiches, Cisco tugs Harry into an empty corner by the vending machines. 

"You guys can go."

"Jesse wants to be here."

"You're her dad, Harry. Just - "

"I want to be here." Harry looks at the ceiling then squints as if the fluorescent pains him. "You need us. We're here. That's how this stuff works."

What stuff, exactly, Cisco doesn't ask, but he has a good idea. Family. Relationships. Love. He stares hard at Harry's shoes.

"I should've been with him. I should've been there."

"Stop it."

" _Twice_ , Harry. This is twice he nearly died and I wasn't there."

Harry curls heavy hands around his shoulders. Cisco can feel the frustration thrumming through Harry's palms. It seeps into his own blood, poisoning.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Harry says. Cisco turns his face against the words. They're true - Cisco knows they're true - but they don't _feel_ true, so it doesn't matter. "You couldn't have stopped it from happening. You might have gotten him to the hospital faster, but that wouldn't have changed anything. Nothing would be different now if you'd been there."

"But I wasn't. I wasn't with them. I was with you."

Which is what it all comes down to. The inevitability of the universe seems to be telling Cisco, in nothing less than glaring neon letters, that it's family or happiness. The two things are mutually exclusive and Cisco is running out of time to decide.

"If you want us to leave." Harry doesn't finish the sentence because there's simply nothing else to say.

"I'll call you," Cisco promises. "I'll come see her. But I can't. Not right now. I'm sorry."

Harry kisses his forehead. Cisco stands for a moment, bathed under the stench of hospital, and he wants to tell Dante he's sorry, but he can't make the right decision. He can't do what his brother would do.

He forces himself to move. Takes Jesse in his arms, hugs her a long time.

The Wells don't come back to the hospital. 

-

Cisco leaves the hospital once for the duration of his father's three night stay. Iris practically forces him to go home and take a shower. Other than that, he stays by his mother’s side. He doesn’t want her to deal with any part of this alone.

As much as he tries to reassure her, to make sure she knows he is there for her completely, she barely speaks to him. He might as well not even be there. He knows when she looks him in the eyes, she sees Dante's ghost, but it doesn't ease his anger. Bitterness, acidic and vile, constricts his throat. 

How can he choose her when she can't look at him. When all he does is breathe life into the grief she's trying so hard to move past. 

Once they're home, he looks into hiring a nurse. Not live in or 24/7, because that would be too intrusive, but someone who can be there a few hours everyday when he can't. His parents are against it at first. They don't want a stranger in their home, in their lives. But his father's health is more important than their discomfort. He says it again and again and again, until the words finally sink in. 

It doesn't mean he's leaving, he tells them. He'll be there, more than he usually is, but they'll have extra help. 

He tells Harry he'll need to be at home more. Harry says he understands. They don't schedule the third date.

- 

Cisco interviews nurses with his mother. He doesn't know why he thought that would be a good idea.

"You can't send people away after the first few questions," he tells her, rubbing his eyes, letting his fall back onto the couch. Her condition for agreeing to the home health service was she got to meet and approve of the nurse that would care for his father. He should've kept negotiating. 

"None of them are right," she says from her seat beside him.

"At this rate, we'll have to call another service."

"When are you going back to work?" 

The question itself is surprising, but the tone, without accusation or frustration, is surprising too. "Once we have someone hired," he says. "Harry just told me to come back when I could."

She considers his answer. "He's a good boss."

"And we've officially entered  _The Twilight Zone_. I thought he was the worst?"

"He came to the hospital. He gives you time for your family now. He's a good boss."

"He feels guilty." She watches him for several moments and he realizes she's waiting on him to elaborate. He can't, really, because it's not exactly Harry that feels guilty. Cisco feels the guilt. All of it. "I mean, you know. Because I was with him - at his daughter's party - when dad."

 _Could've died_ , he doesn't say, but his stomach lurches.

"That wasn't his fault," she says simply. "Not yours, either, Francisco."

"I should've been here, though," Cisco insists. He doesn't understand how she can absolve him so easily, not when it seems like the universe itself is saying the opposite. 

She furrows her brows. "What would that have done?"

Cisco can't answer that, because the reality of the matter is: nothing. He could've done absolutely nothing. But it's about should have, isn't it? Should have been there, should have been here, should stay in case. 

"I don't know," he says. 

And really, he doesn't.

-

Cisco used to visit his brother's grave. He would go every few weeks to update Dante on the family and ask his advice. He hasn't come since last May. It was getting too hard, having conversations with a ghost who never showed. His parents still visit, but even the frequency of their viewings have dwindled. He knows it was getting too much for them, too, seeing their son in a gravestone instead of vibrant in front of their eyes.

He sits in front of the gravestone. In the beginning, he would sit here vibrating in rage. He would scream at Dante. He would yank clumpfulls of grass and dig his nails into the earth. 

"I can't take care of them," Cisco says, an echo he's repeated with almost every visit. "How could you just leave it all to me when I can't take care of them? I can't even take care of myself."

Cisco closes his eyes. If he can concentrate hard enough, he can almost feel Dante at his side.

"Mom said it wasn't my fault that dad got hurt again. Not not my fault, exactly, but that there wasn't anything I could've done. Harry said the same thing. But I can't stop feeling like I did this to him." Cisco's voice bows under the weight of tears. He presses his face into his legs, knees digging against his sinuses.

It's not the echo of Dante's voice he hears soothing him, but Harry's. He snaps his head to attention. Harry isn't here. Dante isn't here. 

Cisco is. 

Another cry slumps through him. He feels the weight of it in his shoulders. 

"You'd hate Harry," he says to himself, caught between a laugh and a sob and another rush of pain. "You guys would bicker like hell. But you'd love Jesse. She's like the best of both of us."

Cisco pushes his hair back. Wipes his tears. He's glad Harry's not here to see him cry. Harry would just do something embarrassing, like hold him or kiss his forehead again.

"I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me that none of this is my fault. I wish you could give me your blessing."

Wind rustles the dark trees, startling a song bird awake. Cisco's phone rings. Harry's tone. 

"Well played universe," Cisco says, rubbing at his tears. "Well played."

-

No sooner do they hire a nurse than Cisco’s father announces he wants to return to Puerto Rico.

Just for vacation, he clarifies, when Cisco’s mouth drops. Cisco spends several minutes sputtering before calling both his father’s doctor and Caitlin, putting them on speaker phone to list the multitude of reasons why that would be a Bad Idea.

None of the reasons matter to his parents.

Cisco does want to go. He wants to see the place his father grew up, of course, and meet the family that’s still there. He wants his father to swim in the water he did as a boy, to show him, as well as he can, the trees he climbed and the markets he went to. He wants to see with his own eyes the history he’s only been told. He wants to go for himself, and for his parents, and for Dante, who never got the chance.

But when he thinks of a month bereft of his friends – bereft of Jesse, of Harry – then he feels half empty. He can’t risk not being there for another tragedy, another trauma. Everything in Central City will still be there when he returns.

Everyone will still be there.

-

He tells Harry last. Given that Harry is his boss, informing him about leaving for a month long family vacay to another territory should’ve probably been higher on his priority list. Part of him is hoping Harry will just hear about it through the grapevine. Part of him is hoping circumstances will change before he tells him.  

For the first time ever, his friends keep their mouths shut, and his parents stay clear on their travel plans. Cisco has the tickets bought before he tells Harry over dinner. It's not a date dinner, even though Jesse is with Joe and Wally at the newest DC flick. It’s just the two of them, eating pizza because people have to eat pizza sometimes, and there's no reason not to do it together. 

"Are you going because you want to go or because you feel obligated?" 

“Because I want to," Cisco says honestly. "I want to see where my dad grew up. It’s important to him.”

Harry nods. “Jesse will miss you.”

“I’ll miss her too. But we can Skype. You can, too."

"When you come back," Harry says eventually, sipping his beer. His eyes are almost shark black, ice lined. "I'll take you to the new exhibit at the science museum. We'll have dinner. That's official enough for a third date, right?"

Cisco's fingers sweat. They slip slide on his own drink. His body feels smaller, suddenly, coiling tightly in on itself. "Do you ever feel like the universe is trying to tell you something?"

"No."

Of course not. Cisco takes a sip of his drink and thinks of his mother's casual absolution, the look on his father's face when he booked the tickets, of Jesse playing the first song Dante ever wrote.

"I do," Cisco says. "I think maybe I just haven't been listening."

He wants to kiss Harry, then, talk him into the bedroom. He kicks Harry under the table instead. Undeterred, Harry kicks him back.

-

Caitlin makes him a kit for all of the issues he has while flying. Gum for his ears popping, hot sauce for airplane food, pills for nausea, and the novelization of Stars Wars Episode IV through VI for his nerves. Barry adds Tootsie pops and all of his favorite Dum Dum flavors. Iris adds wedding magazines.

The night before he leaves, they plan to have a bar-b-que for him, but the sky rips itself open and unleashes a torrent of summer rain. They end up cooking inside. Wally is with his mom, Jesse is with her grandparents, and Harry is at a Coast City Conference that won't have him home until after midnight. Cisco is still with his important people. They laugh and drink and Cisco eats so many of Joe's potatoes he thinks he's going to die. 

It's the perfect evening. It is. 

"You gonna spend the night with Harry?" Barry asks him.

"He's not getting back until late," Cisco tells him. "We haven't had our third official date, anyway."

Barry frowns. "He came to visit you in the hospital. He spent time with the fam. That's gotta count for something?"

"It got him brownie points with my mom, actually. But I don't think it counts as a date."

Barry looks at the ceiling. Cisco appreciates the effort, truly, but he's fine. He and Harry have had more sex than people in actual relationships have had. What's another month? Four weeks? 30 days? 

"You were totally his date to Jesse's birthday party."

Cisco's eyes snap open. 

He totally was. 

Barry's smile is a ray of light against the clouds. "And that," he says as they fist bump, "is why I'm your bff."

-

Cisco is waiting on Harry's doorstep like a creepy stalker when Harry gets back from his conference. His shoes are wet and his feet are cold, cradled in the sloshing fabric of his socks. It's entirely more dramatic than the situation calls for, probably, but it feels appropriate all the same. 

"Ramon? What are you doing here?"

Harry is not at all tousled, because of course he's not. He has a big black umbrella shielding him from the downpour. He looks dry and dapper and handsome as ever. Cisco has missed the way he feels so damn much.

"Did something happen?"

"It occurred to me that was totally your date to Jesse's birthday party," Cisco says, standing. "Meaning we've had three official dates."

He's soaked from the run between his car and the door. Hair and shirt plastered to him. It's not comfortable but it's a look he knows Harry likes.

"Why didn't you just go inside? You have keys."

But Harry isn't even meeting his gaze when he says it, eyes glued to the space where Cisco's shirt dips from rain, showing the damp skin of his collar. Harry licks his lips like he wants to lick the rain from Cisco's body.

"That wouldn't have been very romantic."

He kisses Harry first, again. It's wet from rain and want and their mouths slide together slick as water. 

"You're trying to romance me?"

"Don't you feel romanced?"

Harry makes a hmm into Cisco's mouth.

"Awesome," Cisco says, smiling into Harry's jaw. "Let me suck your dick."

"Now that's romantic."

-

Harry doesn't let him, actually. What he does do is lend Cisco warm, dry socks and a pair of sweats. They settle on Harry's bed and Cisco finds _The Godfather_ on TMC. Harry wraps a towel around his wet hair, tousling it for him until it's manageable damp instead of soaking. 

Harry combs it for him.

"If you're really not trying to seduce me," Cisco says, dipping his head back into Harry's hands. "This is not the way to go about it."

"Your hair kink has been noted," Harry says. He kisses Cisco's neck, chaste, but it still sends shivers down Cisco's spine. He thinks of the first time Harry drug his tongue down the same path. 

"You really want to wait?" 

Harry hums and works the comb from root to tip. "I don't think my daughter's thirteenth birthday party counts as an official date."

Cisco is 100% certain this is the first time Harry has ever, in his entire life, followed someone else's rules. His stomach flutters but he's not wholly unsatisfied. 

"Do you want me to drive you to the airport?"

"Nah," Cisco says, going boneless. Hair kink confirmed. "I should get home soon so my parents don't think I've ditched them."

"I could take all of you."

"That's cool. We're just gonna get a cab. That way we don't have to mess with anything."

Harry is quiet behind him. It's all so drowsy and domestic, Cisco could almost believe he's dreaming. He drops his head back. Harry hisses at the dampness of his hair, but he ignores it. Harry is so warm and solid. Cisco could fall asleep like this, wake up like this. 

"You're getting my shirt damp."

"Take it off, then," Cisco taunts.

"I'm trying to protect my virtue here, Ramon. Think you can control yourself?"

Cisco tilts his head back, exposing the full line of his throat, letting his lashes fan against his cheeks. When he opens his eyes again, Harry's nostrils are flared.

"Can you?"

They don't wait, after all, and it's like they're picking up from where they left off a few minutes ago instead of a month ago. This is what it means to know someone, Cisco thinks, muscles memory moving his hands over Harry's sensitive spots. He doesn't even have to think about which ribs are most ticklish or the scrape of space on Harry's collar that's his favorite to be kissed. Their fingers find just the right pressure. Cisco feels the parts Harry left inside him come alive again.

They're both shirtless when Harry pulls Cisco into his lap. Cisco's thighs ache with the spread. He missed this. God, he missed this. 

Cisco holds Harry's face in his hands and kisses him until they can't breathe. Harry peers up at him in the light of the TV, painted in subdued colors and orange glow, panting. Maybe Cisco does get to have this. 

Harry spreads him on his back. Kisses every inch of him until he's squirming, ready for more. He lifts his hips so Harry can shuffle the pants and boxers down. Harry laps at his thighs, nips, licks. Kisses. Everywhere but that aching center that Cisco needs him touch. 

Cisco works his fingers through Harry's hair, trying to pull that stupid mouth to his cock. Harry's mouth ghosts over his fingertips. 

"Don't be a tease," Cisco groans.

"I want to take my time taking you apart tonight." Harry sucks at his thumb, then nips. 

Cisco lets him. He has to be at the airport at 6:30 AM and he's going to regret it all in the morning, but right now, nothing sounds better. He lets Harry spread his legs, lick and tease and touch him. At one point, when Harry finally closes his mouth over his dick, not even sucking Cisco all the way down, Cisco nearly comes out of his skin. Harry squeezes the base of him, halting his orgasm.

"You. Fucking. Dick."

"Are you going to beg for me, Cisco?"

They both know he's not. Cisco yanks his hair until he makes a pained noise. It draws Harry up, his body stretching lean and hot over Cisco's, the perfect position to surge forward and tangle their tongues together. 

"How do you want it?" Harry asks, dragging his cheek over Cisco's own. 

Cisco's thought about this. Their second first time. Does he want Harry behind him, pressing him into the mattress, fucking him on hands and knees so he can feel Harry all the way in his throat, or does he want Harry just like this, pushing his legs apart, over Harry's shoulders, spread wide so Harry can get deep. Everything, really. Cisco wants all of it. 

"Wanna ride you."

They switch, Harry on his back now. Cisco can find the slick in the table with his eyes closed. The dark doesn't matter. 

"Do you want to watch me?"

To his surprise, Harry shakes his head. "Together," he rasps. 

Cisco groans, because yes, together.

It takes a while - it's been a while. They end up with two of Harry fingers, one of his, sliding solid and deep inside. Cisco twists and rocks and feels his orgasm building. 

"I'm gonna - Harry - "

Instead of stopping him again, Harry spits into his other hand and curls it firm and wet around Cisco's cock. Cisco moves into all of the sensations, reckless, chasing that spark. Harry helps him find it. He comes over Harry's skin.

When he finally settles over Harry's dick, he doesn't take his time. He's done waiting. His thighs are trembling so hard that he's having trouble finding a steady pace. He moves three times, quick, then his legs strain and he has to slow. Harry grips his hips, steadying him. Then Harry moves, thrusting up, and Cisco scrambles to grip the headboard. Harry pushes up, up, up, and Cisco is about to be toppled from the ride when Harry moves to grip him by the hair. Cisco barely gets their mouths together before Harry groans his name.

-

Cisco waits until Harry falls asleep before dragging himself home. He doesn't do anything weird like kiss Harry's forehead or tuck him in.

He just goes, steady in the knowledge that when he does come back, Harry will still be there.

-

Puerto Rico is beautiful.

His father’s home city is Trujillo Alto. Cisco meets his father’s parents for the fourth time in his life. He vaguely remembers the shapes of their faces. They’re so happy to see him; they hug him tight and fill him with so much food he doesn’t think he’ll survive the first night.

He swims with cousins he’s never met in Loíza Lake. He pushes his father along the streets, engrossed in stories of his childhood. His mother is happier than he’s ever seen her. One night, when his grandfather hands him a guitar, he takes it, playing one of Dante’s songs. There’s grief in his parent’s eyes but under the moonlight, the sorrow is only half lit.

Cisco misses his brother more than ever. It’s so much easier to remember his brother here. This isn’t the ground where Dante’s life spilled out, this isn’t the air where Dante took his last breath. The weight crushing his chest is almost fully lifted.

Time flows quicker. He spends the days with his family and out of that house, out of Central City, without memories and expectations, it's simple. His grandparents and his father's sister and his cousins don't care that he quit the garage or that he'd rather use his hands to build drones than play guitar. He does play, though, when the sun settles low in the sky. They gather together and Cisco plays while his cousins sing. 

There is so much joy. As much as Cisco feels it, there's a distance. He wants to bring Caitlin and Iris to the market, to take Barry and Wally through the lakes, to show Jesse the tree where his father carved his initials with his family. He wants Harry beside him when he sleeps at night.

“Dante would’ve loved it here,” he says one day, rolling his father down the street, his mother at their side.

They have on week left, and as much as Cisco is itching to be back home, he knows he’ll be leaving part of himself here.

“I regret not bringing him,” his father says. He sounds solemn and sober. His grief is lifted by the wind, though, not weighed heavily by Dante’s ghost.

Cisco’s mother puts her hand over his. It startles Cisco to a stop. “Let’s rest here, Francisco.”

The three of them stop on a bridge overlooking the water. Cisco watches life bustle around them. 

“I am grateful,” his mother begins. She smiles sadly and pats Cisco’s hand before bringing it to the bridge. “I am so grateful Dante taught you not to live in regret.”

Cisco isn’t sure how to respond. He isn’t sure that his mother expects him to.

“He never pursued his gift. Even though he never understood yours, he was so proud of you for going after it. I’m glad you still are, with this Dr. Wells.”

“Yeah,” Cisco says around the knot in his throat.

Standing there, it feels like putting Dante’s ghost to rest. Absolution for everything he can’t be comes with the gust of wind carrying the scents of the city. He gathers his mother into his arms, holding her for several minutes, and when he pulls back, they both have tears in their eyes.

Before they leave, Cisco adds he and Dante’s initials to the tree.

He knows once they go home, the tension will rise between he and his parents again. Harry would tell him not to stop being dramatic and focus on the good things between them now. Cisco does.

-

When they get back, Cisco's instinct is to drive straight to the Wells. He wants to give Jesse the candy he got her and kiss Harry's taste back into his mouth.

Instead, he helps his parents unpack. His mother cooks. He stays the night at home. 

There's no rush. 

-

Since Cisco’s goodbye bar-b-que was at the West's, his welcome home dinner is at the Wells.

It's a Big Deal. Harry doesn't invite people into his home or let them run amuck in his kitchen. He certainly doesn't let them hang signs that say welcome home Francisco Wells in more glitter than is going to be humanly possible to clean. But Harry does. For Cisco.

Almost an hour into the evening, Harry finally manages to corner him in the kitchen.

“You’re staying the night." It’s not a question.

“You're so bossy,” Cisco says, bumping his nose against Harry’s jaw. "I've gotta call my mom and tell her I'm staying."

"You really should just move in." As soon as Harry says it, his skin drains at least three shades of color. Cisco feels as if he's stepped into some sort of cartoon dimension because his eyes fall to the floor, followed by his jaw. "Or not."

Cisco isn't sure what exactly Harry just offered, accidentally or not. The guest room or Harry's own, room and board or co-habitation. His insides slide forward, lurching to reach out and accept whatever Harry offers. 

"I'm just telling you, you could. If you ever wanted to. In the future."

The future. Cisco breathes out unsteady. His future, which could include Harry, could include he and Harry and a bed that's their own. It doesn't seem impossible.

"I think," Cisco says slowly, tasting the idea as it rests on his tongue. "I'd like that. Someday. In the future."

Harry doesn't seem particularly wounded or relieved. He seems unsurprised more than anything. Cisco decides he should table future talk and future thoughts for tonight. Even as it stretches with possibilities - finishing his degree, maybe, or selling that patent, or moving in with Harry and adopting five cats -instead of looms devoid of them, Cisco hasn't quite overcome the queasy feeling that the world is going to shift out from under him. 

He has Harry to hold onto, though. And he has time. 

"Call your mother."

"Bossy," Cisco says again.

Harry smacks his ass, light but not necessarily playful. Cisco swallows hard.

"You love it," Harry whispers in his ear before kissing his neck.

Cisco rolls his eyes but tilts into Harry's mouth. Because he does, he thinks. He doesn't say it out loud - he and Harry aren't those people - but he doesn't need to. 

"I'm coming into the kitchen," Barry says suddenly, loudly, from what sounds like just outside the entry. "If anyone is making out, please do not be making out when I come into the kitchen."

Harry nips at him before pulling away. "I hate your friends. They're never coming here again."

"But Harry, your house is the coolest. I want to have my birthday party here."

"Never again."

"What if I make you an offer you can't refuse?"

Harry's eyes narrow.

"Can I come in now?"

"No," Harry says, gaze intense on Cisco's mouth. "What kind of offer?"

Cisco grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDEK what this was but thanks so much for reading. Buy Lady Gaga's The Cure on iTunes!


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